A Winning Hand
by rc48177
Summary: When Life gives you a bad hand and you bust, you have to leave the table, for good. But sometimes, Death gives you another chance to get back in and draw a Winning Hand. Thrust into a new world with the power and spirits of those who carved their names into legend, can our player Win it all, or will not even a new hand save him from losing it all again? Semi-SI/OC (On Break)
1. Chapter 1: Busted

**Ever since I discovered Fanfiction I've wanted to write a story. One day I went out and gave it my best shot…. I don't like talking about it. But now I'm back, a little older and a little wiser and I would like to think a better writer. This story would just not leave my head so I decided to actually write it for once, mainly due to me actually finally decided to play grand order, and not just watch cu only runs. But yeah, first ever story, so if you see a novice mistake, its because I am one, and please, don't be afraid tell me how to improve, I can take it(At least I hope I can) Hope you all like this.**

 **First up:**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/stay Night, Fate Grand Order or High School DxD, Just the Original concepts and plot in this story.**

 **This Crossover is a completely AU.**

 **The Cover Picture is done by** **DarkHunter8506 from deviantart who has kindly allowed me to use this as my cover.**

 **This is my first fic, so please tell what you think.**

 **A Winning Hand: Busted**

* * *

I once heard someone said, "Only the young die good.". To whoever said that, I'm going to have to disagree. I don't think anything about dying from a knife wound to the chest, as my I feel my blood and guts leak onto the ground and vomit as the fear of death overcame me can be classified as "good". The closest thing to anything being "Good" about how I went was making sure I was the one that got the sharp end of the blade as opposed to my friend. I don't think I would have been able to deal with myself I had to watch him die… Damn, I hope seeing me take the knife didn't fuck him up too badly. Well, as I'm here in this weird white void of nothingness, I guess what I'm trying to say one way or another, "Death Fucking sucks!" i grumble into the void.

"I take offense to that remark.", a monotone voice remarks unexpectedly.

I flip around and immediately begin to shake in unabashed terror.

This... this... **THING!** , is something that is making every part of my body begin to feel pain and sickness even worse than when I was dying, like my mind and soul were curling into themselves at the sheer **WRONG** that **IT** was. It didn't have a shape, it didn't have anything. **IT** simply **WAS**.

"Oh, pardon me, is so rare that I ever speak to clients that I forgot to be formally dress. I hope that didn't hurt too much." And suddenly the voice has a body. Where **IT** once was, is now a 8 ft skeleton dressed in fine and proper dark dress suit.

"It's a Bespoke actually, you humans are certainly creative with what to do with fabrics," the voice says from the skeleton, though the undead does not move its mouth, merely tightening it's tie as if he were to have a meeting.

"I am in a meeting, and you are my client." the voice replies again, the skull's non-exist eyes boring into my twitching fleshy one.

"Now young man, as you know by now, you are dead, and as per my job it my duty to aid you to your final rest. However, oh don't worry it isn't something that bad, merely a new opportunity. As your final decision in life was to prevent another's from being taken, you have done a truly heroic act, and for that you should be proud of your moral integrity, even if you should have been more focused on personal safety rather than martyring yourself for such a pointless action." The Voice continues to talk, addressing me like some sort of teacher would a student that had done done more than I was supposed to and had caused him unnecessary work and a headache.

"What?" it was all I could say, and honestly, what do you say when the very personification of humanity's greatest fear is telling me that my last act on earth, saving my friend, was pointless.

"You see, that's the problem there. You saved your friend from being stabbed, that is true, but that boy was not to die this night. Your killer's strike would have merely landed a relatively shallow stab to the boys sternum and the blade would have have not gotten more than 4 millimeters in before before the man would try to run, only to be tackled by you and restrained until the some good Samaritans nearby would call the authorities. Your friend would have a scar requiring 5 stitches and you would have a shallow scar above your eye from a punch but be none the worse for the most part." The voice stops and begins to rub the point between its eye sockets, like it was dealing with a painful headache."Your instantaneous decision to take the wound for friend was, while good at heart, hasty and ultimately fatal. Because of this, the scales of life and death are at an imbalance, a life was taken before it's time and so that must be corrected. However," and suddenly a more ominous power begins to grow in the voice's tone, "I personally feel that if we gave life back to fools who have made an imbalance then we are merely rejecting our miscalculations. But do not worry, for I am not cruel, I will merely ask one question and if you are right then you will be granted life once again. Fail..." the voice doesn't bother to elaborate, not that it needs to given what it is.

If I was alive my heart would be pounding, my skin would be sweating and I may have even thrown up just from the shear stress I'm feeling. It's all down to this. one question. One question. One Question. If I was more calm I would have probably tried to calm myself down a sharp wit and sarcasm, 'is it multiple choice?' but as it is, all I can do now is shudder in fear as my potential executioner(?) gazes expectantly at me.

"Now" the being takes a dramatic pause as if we were performing a play. Then again I guess for him this is entertainment "In what movie do I play chess with a Knight for his Li-"

"Seventh Seal." I shout out without a second to even question myself.

Suddenly all of the tension that was building is gone, a void of awkwardness where it once was, "That was a quick response. Are you sure you want that to be your answer" the voice asks, a faint amount of disbelief present in its normally monotone voice.

I take a few seconds to think this time before finally opening my mouth, "I know the movie, I saw in the last Action Hero"

Even though this being's only face was that of a bleached skeleton, I could not stop the feeling that it was trying to raise its non-existent eyebrows at my explanation. After an uncomfortably long silence, the voice finally spoke, with what I would think would be a trace of bafflement in it's dull monotone.

"...You are going to base your eternal afterlife on the Last Action Hero?"

"I'm currently dead and somehow talking with the personification of the greatest fear of all sentient beings about old movie references, is placing my faith in the Arnold any less crazy?" I state, a tired resignation mixed in with nihilistic comedy as I start to chuckle at the absurdity of everything began to really hit me.

The voice takes only a few seconds before it says, in an oddly jovial manner, "Congratulations, despite the..." it seems to be trying to conjure up the proper word, "Unusuality, of your source, you have answered my question correctly. As per the deal, I will allow you to return to the mortal coil."

"YES" I scream, tears leaking from my eyes in pure joy. I was going to live. I would get apologize to my friend for scaring him like that, I would be able to call up my mom and tell her i'm okay, i would be able to show up back up in classes and retake the tests I would miss in the hospitals, I would be able visit my grandma and help her with her cookies, I would be able to tell my dad-.

"Unfortunately, I cannot resurrect your corpse, for to return life to you would break the natural balance of the the world. Your death has already been recorded in the great book of the dead, and that can never be crossed out." The voice cuts through my wishful thinking as a scalpel would at infect flesh, a faint amount of what could potentially be pity laced into it's cold reality.

With that said my feet give out from under me, the despair overwhelming me in the instant I realized that my old life truly was gone, only to faint memories. Before I can collapse to the ground the skeleton grabs me by the armpits, lifting me like you would a baby before speaking again, "But do not despair young one, for while this world has become lost to you, that does not mean the worlds beyond ours are locked away from you." as he quickly sets me down in a chair that has suddenly come into being.

I have a," Death begins to rub its head like a human would when trying to mitigate a headache, "'Friend', that had recently given me an item which grants access to the realms between realms for when I would 'finally take a vacation and visit his workshop'. Since I hope to not see that wrinkled troglodyte for as long as possible, I will grant you the use of this 'gift', and take you to a new world." The voice speaks as the Skeleton pulls out a strange and out of place looking wand from his suit, the whole thing painted in a rainbow design with pretty flower ornaments with a large heart at the top and the whole item emitting a bright sparkling effect as if it had come straight out of a magical girl anime, and if I didn't already have it, I would have said just looking at the thing was giving me type 2 diabetes. Whatever creature made such a creation is a monster I hope to never meet, for my strained sanity's sake at the least, and mercy to any poor sap that has to handle anything made by the mind that could even make such an atrocity. (Somewhere in the multiverse a vampiric troglodyte felt a tickling under his nose, while in another world a elementary age girl who moonlights as a magical girl feels a shudder down her back)

As the skeleton begins to fiddle with the Rod, the voice says, "Before you go, that mad fool had also granted me these" he hands over a pack of cards, with a strange emblem on the cover that seems so familiar, , "I do not have the qualities to use these, but I believe the insufferable magi gave this to me hoping I would find someone to give them to, someone I would believe was either worthy of this gift, or would desperately need it. He is known for doing things like this for his own amusement and studies, but then I suppose he is a scientist of a sorts, and I too am curious about how one such as you will handle what you have been given." the skeleton's mouth somehow distorting it's shape to appear as if it were grinning.

As the weird rainbow stick begins to beep and glow, spouting off stuff about a kaleidoscope and 'unmarked examination grounds', behind me I feel a force pushing me back and find myself being slowly pulled away. I quickly turn my head but after but a second I return my gaze back to the Skeleton.

Behind me is what I can only assume to be a portal between space and time, and since humans were probably never meant to see what the outside of reality looks like, just a second of looking at it makes my soul want to barf, for all the lack of sense that makes.

"A few parting words perhaps are in order to my client" The Skeleton looks me in the eye as the voice tells me, "Do not falter on the path you will soon undertake. You have been given something many would sell the lives of millions for, a second chance. I suggest you not waste it."

And as I feel body begins to be fully consumed by the tear, the last thing I hear is. "Good luck to you Robert Caito, you will need it"

* * *

 **And WOW I finally did it, I'm writing a story. First ever project on this sight(well there was that first time, but it's gone now so I doubt anyone knows about let alone remembers that piece of shit). This was merely the prologue to the rest of the story and the introduction of the main character.**

 **As you could probably tell by the cards and the allusions to a certain Kaleidoscope the cards that appeared are the Servant Cards from Fate/Kaleid, but they are different in certain ways, mostly because of certain story elements I want to highlight and my lacking knowledge in how exactly how everything in the Nasuverse works, so please don't murder me in the comments. Next chapter will be a clue into the Card's Identities and an introduction into the new world.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this, and who knows, if enough of you seem to like it, I'll probably do more. Though with exams right around the corner… don't expect an update too soon.**

 **If you liked this piece, please read Drow79's "Holding all of the Cards", it's a wonderful FatexDXD crossover that really gave me the inspiration for this story. Made me really think this was possible. Also, if you're also into WARHAMMER 40k, you might like his story "Pandora's Box", it's a fun story that despite only being 6 chapters, is probably one of the best 40k crossover fics I've read.**

 **Hope you liked this, bye.**


	2. Chapter 2: Cards in the Air

**Wow, did not expect such a good reception to the first chapter. I though I get like, 3, maybe 4 follows or favorites and a review if I was lucking. But with 43 follows, 24 favorites and 6 reviews at the time of me posting, I can certainly say I'm glad people seem to like what I'm serving up, I just hope I can keep you all entertained. I wasn't planning on doing much work on this chapter but with such the positive reception, I felt inspired to keep writing. And don't worry, I do plan on routinely rereading previous chapters to fix any spelling mistakes, improper grammar or inaccuracy I may have missed in the initial writing process.**

 **I also figured I should mention this:**

"Normal speech"

'Internal Dialogue, also known as talking in your head'

" **Words with Power in them"**

" _Saying a Spell"_

"Overlapping voices"

 **Now a response to the reviews I got:**

 **BzantineAlter: Well I hope to make mine good enough to be remembered**

 **PasiveNox: Thank you**

 **The Rupture: I hope to keep your interest**

 **Neema miry: I will try to keep you hope alive**

 **Hashirama 1710: Unfortunately, assassin is revealed in this chapter, and is not any form of emiya. Hope you'll still read**

 **Warlord of Chaos: Sorry, this will not be a magical girl anime, and yes, these cards are not the normal ones given out by Zeltrich. These are a bit more... Personal so to say. There much higher standards to use the card but at the same time a much higher potential power to be earned. And don't worry, your English is actually quite good.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/stay Night, Fate Grand Order or High School DxD, Just the Original concepts and plot in this story.**

 **This Crossover is a completely AU.**

 **The Cover Picture is done by DarkHunter8506 from deviantart who has kindly allowed me to use this as my cover.**

 **This is my first fic, so please tell what you think.**

 **A Winning Hand: Cards in the Air**

* * *

If I had to say what it was like being pulled from death into… whatever that portal was, I would say that the experience was only slightly better than dying. If I had to describe it in a way that makes sense it felt like I was being dragged through a thorn bush, but that the thorns were cutting the very essence of the me that made up my self.

As I was dragged through this Warp brief images flashed in my mind. None were any longer than second, but each I could recall with vivid clarity as if I had been there myself.

* * *

I'm on a high platform, people are gathered beneath me, screaming in frenzied bloodlust as I hold up a decapitated head to them, blood dripping from the freshly made cut.

* * *

I'm cradling a dead boy, no more than 7 years old, dressed in bloodied armor with a red, angry, spear stabbed right in his heart, his face marred by blood and a sad smile, like he just realized a cruel joke.

* * *

I'm standing on some sort of podium and around me are marble works of art, a magnificent city gleaming with color and a crowd below cheering up to me, their adoration plastered across their faces, but everything seems muted, wrong, like looking at a counterfeit, something's not right, but I'm not sure what.

* * *

I'm in a cave, around me are two bodies, small enough to be children, both mangled and carved up beyond recognition, I'm looking at my hands, no, claws, dripping red with blood.

* * *

I'm sitting down in a fine chair, looking down at a twisted mockery of a forest, with row after of row of spikes bathed in red liquid as a growing crimson lake flows towards me, my body submerged beneath an ocean of blood.

* * *

I'm in some sort of wooden building, all around me fire is blazing, but out of a door I see a man standing, katana drawn, looking at with me what could be either be self-loathing or hate tinged with fear.

* * *

I'm in a in the middle of a village square, the sun is high in the sky and the heat waves give everything a distorted appearance, all around me I see people armed with knives, stones, whips and other weapons, all descending on me with looks of hatred so powerful they appear to look more like demons than humans.

* * *

I'm kneeling, my head bowed to the ground, as above me I see a bright light radiating a kind of power I don't truly understand, my knees shaking in what is either excitement or fear.

* * *

My vision is full of lines, all around me the world looks like it could fall apart at any moment, everything screaming deathdeathdeathdeathdeathdeathdeath

* * *

The next image is even shorter, but all I can see is a spark, illuminating for the briefest instant a blade that hurt to look at, as if it was so sharp it could cut me down just from looking at it.

* * *

The last thing I saw is something I'm not even too sure of. All it was was a bright like so **LARGE** and **POWERFUL** that I was all but blind, with only the faintest of outlines making believe that this light was coming from some **THING**.

I suddenly felt something **STRONG** but oddly soft grip onto me and before I can comprehend any sort of feeling I'm waking up in a field of green, country all around me.

* * *

…

...

...

It takes Robert a long time to finally realize that he's not dreaming. Well, time and a hard self inflicted punch to the cheek. As he pull himself up, he takes a long and hard breath of air, feeling the clean air reinvigorate his body.

As he dusts himself off he looks around to see that all around is idyllic European country, green all around with only a long river to break up the countryside and a bright blue sky with barely a cloud to be seen.

With no real sense of where he is or of what to do with himself, he wanders to the bank of the river, finding a small rock to rest on. He sits there until the sun begins to disappear behind the horizon, trying to comprehend everything that's happened to him. Dying, meeting death itself, playing a game with death for his life, being given another chance in another world, it's all fantastical to say the least. Honestly, he'd be fine going to another world like this, a clean start so to speak, if only it didn't cost him everything.

No more calls to mom, no more playing with the dogs, no more listening grandma's insane stories, no more welcome home hugs, no more home cooked meals, no more long talks about the ways of the women with his friends, no more long drives to the surprise family, no more goodbyes, no more home, no more them.

…

…

…

It's only when his stomach makes a sound more at home with a large bear than a nearly 20

something college student, that he picks himself up off the ground and follows the river, looking to find civilization. After all, he can brood when he knows where he is, has a roof over his head, and has enough food in his stomach to not deal with hunger pains.

* * *

"Well Todo, I'm sure not in Kansas anymore." frowned Robert in resignation, knowing that things we not going to get any easier with what he just discovered.

It took only a about an hour before Robert found himself on the side of a road, having seen the road only a little ways away from the river, and with a much higher chance of eventually finding someone to talk to, he decided it was the better path to follow. And while he hasn't encountered a person yet, he had run across the sign giving him directions… unfortunately for him, these directions were in french.

"Paris 71km, Veuillez ignorer les auto-stoppeurs" awkwardly said Robert as he desperately tried to remember his one year of French classes. Unfortunately for him, the extent of what he remember more or less translated to asking to use the bathroom, and asking how you are doing today, fine as ways to get out of class and pretend you were learning, not so much with being actually stranded in France.

"Welp, at least now I know where the fuck I am, the land of cheese, wine and baguettes. It looks like this whole freaking mess I'm in has just became 10 times more difficult." mumbled the formerly gutted teen as he continued to walk down the road, figuring that at least someone in a nearby town would probably be able to understand English, let alone speak it.

As he continued to walk down the road, Robert reached into his jacket pocket, looking for his wallet, if only so he could make sure he had enough cash to make sure he wouldn't starve tonight. When he opened it up, he was surprised to find in one of the pockets that usually only held his credit and debit cards quite a collection of cards all stuffed in, barely not poking out of the leather case. Remembering that weird pack the Skeleton had given him before his one way trip, he figured that he might as well see what the hell was so important about a few cards that death itself said he would need them.

Unfortunately, for some reason, they were all stuck inside, not budging in the slightest no matter how hard he pulled.

"Hm, well, I never did have that Heart of the Cards nonsense" grumbled Robert as he placed his wallet back into his jacket, figuring that whatever those cards were, if they didn't want him to look at them, there was little he could do beyond destroying his own wallet.

Pulling out his phone(Which he was ETERNALLY grateful he still had), and plugging in his earphones, Robert opened up his music player and hit play as he stuck his arm out in the traditional hitchhiker thumbs up, walking down the endless road.

"I was walking down the street when out the corner of my eye…"

* * *

Robert was abruptly woken up as he heard someone talking to him. As he opened his eyes he stretched out his arms before looking around to see that his impromptu chauffeur had parked the car in a hotel parking lot, the man rubbing his fingers in the universal symbol of "Wheres da' money?". Grumbling a little at the demand after just waking up, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, pulling out a Thomas Jefferson and handing it to the man as payment, which he quickly pocketed, mumbling something in french before unlocking the doors and telling me in no uncertain terms to fuck off as well as something to do with "holes", if he was remembering that word correctly.

"Yeah, well up your's too buddy. I hope you use that money to pay for a healthy lung" spat Robert as he slammed the door behind him and began walking into the city, the sound of tires on gravel telling him that he had gone on his way.

Finding a bench on the side, Robert sat down on the old wood, trying to allow the day's events to settle in a bit more.

Despite the harsh words, Robert was grateful the man had decided had picked him up on the road, since the last 20 something drivers had just driven by without even a second's deliberation and by then his feet were starting to really hurt. What really made him want to slam the man' head into the wheel was the fact that the man smelled like a smoke house, with at least two cigarettes stuck in his mouth at any time and refused to pop open a window. Eventually, only by the virtue of being so completely exhausted that he could barely stay conscious was he finally able to fall asleep.

But as they say, "out of the frying pan and into the fire", because while he might be out of that smoke shack of a car, he's now stuck in a city that speaks a language he can't understand, only has about 150 dollars, and he was fairly sure that his I.D., which was printed in 2017 in an alternative dimension no less, would not stand up to scrutiny seeing as how he noticed in the car a fresh, well as fresh as anything was in that hotbox of a car, receipt for some smokes with the numbers 2008 labeled on it.

As he walked through the Capital City's streets, he realized that he had somehow wandered his way into large public square. The place was clean, with bright marble walking spaces, an obelisk in the dead center and a large fountain with a statue on top.

But Robert didn't see this.

What he saw was was square filled with thousands, all dressed in a variety of colors, all yelling up to a large platform where a guillotine was set up, it's blade already red even as it was primed to strike down another head.

To the terrifying apparatus's side, a young man with pure white hair dressed in a black trenchcoat adorned with white symbols and with a pair of pauldrons shaped like horse heads with bladed manes, a large executioner's blade in hand, and if he hadn't seen the **THING** itself, he would look like the pure embodiment of death itself. But it was his face that drew him in the most, for it was filled with a sadness he had only remembered seeing once, on his father.

This moment of introspection is ruined by the sound of scream filled with panic.

Robert quickly rushes from the square through the darkened streets until he reaches a small alley, barely wide enough to fit 3 people standing shoulder to shoulder. And that's when he sees it.

3 men all wearing masks gathered around, 2 holding a woman down to the ground as the third begins to cut away her clothes, making sure to cut her skin too for good measure too. Its clear whats about to happen.

Robert grinds his teeth together in a furious rage. He remembers the promise he made, that scum like this would be punished for their crimes. 'I promise that as long as I live, I will uphold the law and protect the people from those to bring pain and misery upon them. I will not falter in my duties, even for a moment. I will honor the lives of all those who gave everything to protect. I will not judge, but if needed, **I'll execute the sentence** myself!', he recounts as another presence begins to act upon him, overlaying with body, mind and soul until they became impossible to tell apart, like two hearts beating together in resonance.

And so as these monsters in human form continue to prepare their prey for slaughter, they don't notice the young boy in almost mechanical fashion pull out his wallet, only for a card with an image of frighting masked man wielding wicked blades pokes right out of it case without prompt, quickly being grabbed from it's spot with no wasted motion. Nor do they notice the growing darkness encroaching, as the street lamps turn off one by one, until total darkness consumes the alley, and an oppressive weight falls upon all of the criminals, like an executioner's sword hanging above their heads, ready to commence justice.

" _Class Card Assassin,_ _Include_ "

* * *

 **And so there's chapter two done. Wow, looking at the time I finished its 5:36 in the morning. I guess watching streams and writing are not good for my sleep schedule.**

 **But anyway, as you can see, Roberts not in Kouh, nor even in japan. Don't worry, he will be going there, but not yet. Also, since the first dxd light novel was first released in September 2008, that's where I'm saying the official story-line begins with Issie. If I had to give a date for when this begins, it's about February 15'th 2008, about 6 months before the main events take place. This is going to be a prologue where the power of these unique class cards are going to be discovered, along with a few ideas I wanted to play around with. He'll still be discovering new servants and abilities by the time the series begins proper but he'll have enough power to be a force when it begins and some noob who would die to a single spear thrust the first time he gets into a fight(Coughshiruocough).**

 **As you can all guess by the all the clues and the fact I have him listed as a character in the box above, Assassin is Charles-Henri Sanson, the Humanitarian Headsman of France. If you're wondering why I went with him, it's for two reasons. One, I find he's underused in the main fanon, at least in the circles I frequent, and two, I love his design, his general theme and because I think he's a good starting point for the story. He's no god reigning over men like Romulus or Gilgamesh, but he's powerful in his own right and his stats as an expert on executing evil humans can lead to some creative ideas for dealing with characters in the story.**

 **Anyway, I have all of the main servants chosen already, but if anyone wants to suggest on in one of the Extra classes, I'll play around with in my head and might include it in the story.**

 **The chapter will be some days away. Due to the nature of whats about to happen I want to make it suitably epic which means I'm going to be spending far more time writing the next chapter(s?) because I want them to be even better than the first two. That and exams are within a week and the time for dillydallying is over, its time to actually own up to my responsibilities as a student and not just an fan-reader and fan-writer.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading, hope you enjoy.**


	3. Chapter 3: A Hero's Call

**This chapter(the first half of at least) was beta'd by ByzantineAlter. Check him out, nice dude.**

"Normal speech"

'Internal Dialogue, also known as talking in your head'

 **"Words with Power in them"**

"Saying a Spell"

"Overlapping voices"

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/stay Night, Fate Grand Order or High School DxD, Just the Original concepts and plot in this story.**

 **This Crossover is a completely AU.**

 **The Cover Picture is done by DarkHunter8506 from deviantart who has kindly allowed me to use this as my cover.**

 **This is my first fic, so please tell what you think.**

 **Warning, there is some uncomfortable stuff perpetrated by some characters in the chapter below, vile acts and other such ugliness. Just to make it 111% clear, I do not condom any such actions in real life, consent is a real thing and NOT just some imaginary concept.**

 **A Winning Hand: A Hero Call**

* * *

Paris, City of Love, a beacon of European culture and arts that has withstood many a tragedies and much hardship, it is one of the most visited locations on the planet, with millions flocking to see the city that is so intertwined with the Western ideals of luxury and class and to experience its unique beauty.

But a city is still a city, full of people that most assuredly do not fit the vision of this beloved city of the arts. People whose visions of beauty and class are the such that would turn a sane person's mind to mush trying to comprehend the twisted logic and downright evil that they are capable of.

One such person is Pierre Ganguli, a fairly normal looking 22 year old former engineering student who now spends his days doing private studies in his apartment, hanging out with his friends, participating in his church's worship, and on nights like this, raping and killing women along with his friends, though it is not necessarily in that order.

As said man begins to begin the process of, as he likes to call it, "tenderizing the meat" he says to himself, 'My father once told me that there's no such thing as a consequence free action, whether it be having lunch, speaking your mind or even having sex, everything has a turnaround, every action, a reaction.' as he recalled to himself as he smashes his fist into the woman's face, over and over, a satisfying crunch with each and every hit, as his allies hold her back and keep her still for act.

'Personally, I feel that me and the guys are about to give this fine young woman is a proper punishment for her previous actions. I mean, you go around looking that cute, bright and innocent this late at night and she didn't expect to get raped? What kind of retard is she, doesn't she know what kind of people come out at night?' as he continues to rant in his head he pulls a out a switchblade, shuddering in pleasure at the look of absolute terror on the woman's face as he begins to cut away at her jeans, her bare skin just centimeters away.

'She should just be grateful that it's gonna an actual Frenchman that does this instead of one of those freaking Quran humping sand dogs from the slums.' so distracted by the prospect of fulfilling his dark desires, neither he nor his allies notice that in the street ahead, a person is staring them down, a young man dressed in worn jeans, wearing a simple leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, and how all around him the lights begin to flicker as he with mechanical precision pulls out a wallet, grabbing a card that seems to unnaturally jut out of the leather holding.

But so wrapped up in the prize in front of him, he doesn't even register the growing danger that seems to emanate from the very air, too focused on unbuttoning his pants, showing off his (In his own option at least) fairly impressive penis, that he doesn't notice his executioner is only a few feet away from him. 'Huh, you'd think with how scared this whore is, that she's never seen a dick before. But that can't be, I mean, she was carrying that kid around before and he looked so much like her. Could she be a virgin? Well, if that's the case I should tell-" but his trail of thought is cut off as a flash of light and power draws his attention away from his victim to the new figure slowly making its way down the alley towards them.

A young man with short brown hair with streaks of white flow from his head, dressed in dress clothes and clad in a black trench coat that made him look like he came straight out of the late 18'th century, but the thing really drew their eyes was his blade.

Pure obsidian black, and with an odd T-shaped design, the blade seemed to be about 90cm long and fairly thick, not the sort of weapon would bring out for a walk on the town. No, that blade was a weapon made for a purpose and one purpose only, the taking of lives with as much precision as possible.

For a moment Pierre is so baffled and confused by the sight in front of him that he doesn't even say a word, merely staring towards this new interloper with unconcealed confusion. He quickly brushes off his confusion however, "Well, what are you two fools doing, I'll hold this bitch down and finish the job, so go get rid of him, we don't need any witnesses, especially some wannabe hero who looks like he took a wrong turn at a reenactment. " he spits with restrained contempt, making sure that his hold over his victim doesn't slacken in the slightest so she can not escape in the confusion.

As his two compatriots move to to handle the problem, one drawing out a long jagged knife while the other takes out a crudely muzzled pistol, both ready to end distraction that may hamper their good old fashioned enjoyment, Pierre moves his gaze from the oncoming confrontation back to his prey, a twisted smile returning to his face as terror similarly fills the woman's face, her eyes filling with delicious tears.

He slowly draws the knife along the woman's chest, making sure not to cut her too badly so as not to destroy her good looks before he's had his way with her, as he slices through the woman's clothing right to the crotch of her pants, her smooth, succulent, skin ready to be defiled at his leisure. And while he wants to begin immediately, there's one thing really pissing him off.

Her eyes, they're frozen, shaking in fear, anxiety, and some other emotion. But despite her eyes matching right to his head, he can tell she isn't looking at him, she's staring through him, like he wasn't even there.

While he's tempted to just cut her to make her focus back to him, he turns around to see what so was so captivating that she couldn't even focus on her incoming defilement.

He sees his two compatriots standing straight ahead, them both blocking the view of anything further ahead in the narrow alleyway. For a moment he doesn't see what's so odd, but then he notices, they aren't moving, not a single flinch or inch in sight. Then, ever so slowly, their heads begin to tilt. And they keep tilting, more and more, until they fall to the ground, completely separate from their bodies.

It takes another second or two before the bodies too fall to the floor to join their separated tops, all that remained standing was the interloper, his sword hefted upon his shoulder, only a small flecks of blood along the blade showing the evidence of what caused his two compatriots sudden decapitations.

Even as his brain recognizes what had just occurred, his mind refused to cooperate, completely silent in the face of such an impossible sight, one lifetime's worth of movies and videogames having taught him what was beyond the capacities of humanity. And yet, here it was, a being that had so casually tossed aside his ideas of how the world worked with just a single swing of his blade.

So complete was his mental eradication, he didn't even realise that both his hands had dropped to his side, releasing the woman from his grip, though she too was completely frozen on the spot, and that he had knelt before this coming inter-NO, monster, his body merely acting on natural instincts, to bow before the alpha predator, his head slowly lowering to face the ground so as to not stare into the cold amber eyes that promised no mercy.

In an instant he felt a pleasure of the like he had never felt before. Not even the sweet feeling of domination could not compare to this. So blinded by this feeling of orgasmic pleasure he didn't even realize his head had fallen to the ground as his last sight was of his own headless body shuddering in joy from the succulent cut.

* * *

Most people would feel something from killing a person. Whether it be guilt, nausea, excitement, satisfaction, or even pleasure all are are normal reactions one way or another. As I looked upon the bodies of the men I had executed, the only thing the being using the boy of Robert Caito would allow itself to feel was a sense of curiosity, wondering how such people could be brought into this world.

It wasn't that it didn't care, oh no, it truly did, for this being loved life above all else and knew first hand the sorrows of death. Every life is precious, and all who must burdening their souls with the crime of killing for the sake of protecting must never take pleasure in the fact that with their act, another soul is forever gone from this world, lost forever.

But as it was right now, the being just did not have the time to mourn for those it had to slay, for right now an innocent lay before it, and it was not It's place to burden her any longer.

The woman who's scream had drawn Caito to this alleyway was laying on her knees, shaking like a puppy left out in the cold. Her clothes cut and torn until they barely covered her shoulder, her, admittedly attractive, bare body would have been a guilty pleasure to gaze at if not for the horrible circumstances in which it was being shown to the world.

The being wearing the frame of Caito tried it's hardest to appear as non-frightening as it could, dispelling the bloody sword and plastering a smile on its face so as to keep her from becoming more frightened than she already was. Unfortunately for this being, this vestige of a powerful spirit using Caito as a vessel, the smile it had on its face looked more appropriate on the face of a psychotic killer than on the face of a hero, a cold manic gleam shining through its eyes, the smile just a little too wide to look normal.

The being however could not see how its attempts to soothe her fears had backfired and instead began to pray. "Oh Lord, pardon this sinful me, for once again I am forced to complete my duty. May you grant these men peace in the other world and kindness to this woman in this one" the willing vessel says in perfect french as it picks up the frozen woman and helps her to her shaking feet, its voice sounding like two very different men were speaking in exact unison, creating a odd resonance to the voice.

"I'm sorry to question you so suddenly, but if there is any information you can give me on the men who hurt you I will promise you I shall make sure that they receive punishment as they deserve." the Vessel questions as it works to calm the former victim down, still careful in it's handling her, treating her like one would fragile glass.

Looking up to her terrifying savior, the woman shivered at the shear coldness radiating from this person's eyes. It was like looking into the face of death itself, with the only comfort it could bring being a swift release and a quick goodbye.

She quickly averted her eyes from him, only to gaze instead upon the masked head of her would-be murder. While most of it was covered, she could see his eyes had rolled up, with tears running down his face as his mouth was carved into such a large smile it looked like it had actually tore a piece of his cheek.

Before she could turn her head to face something that wouldn't either make her piss herself or throw up in disgust, a wave of remembrance slammed into her, her eyes jumping out in panic.

She grabbed her savior arms with all the strength she has, shaking him desperately to get his attention, despite the fact he hadn't taken an eye off her the entire time. "Mon Fils, lui, il-il." she screamed, hot tears of fear running down her face as her mind was consumed by a terror only a loving parent can understand.

The Vessel tried to calm her, but all she would repeat was the same word, "Mon Fils", my son, over and over, as she clutched to him like a lifeline.

Realizing what had happened, the Vessel sets the woman on the ground as gently as he could so he could begin to look around for any sign of her missing child.

A quick scan of the area revealed no obvious clues, with the perps bodies not holding anything of relevance, just loose change and other such nonsense. It would make sense that criminals would not go out to commit a crime with any identifiable items lest they be caught or forced to flee.

The Being was just about to give up hope when it heard a small sound come from the final man's corpse. Rushing to catch whatever it could be before he lost it, he rushed to where the sound was loudest on the man…. Right near his ass crack.

Even in such a dire circumstance, the vessel could not help to show its disgust, "Ugh, God damn it" the vessel muttered, missing the odd resonance it had previously, before shaking its head and quickly stripping the man of his trousers.

After…. retrieving the ringing phone and removing the plastic wrap around it to keep it fresh and unsoiled, the Being quickly realized the phone was asking for fingerprints which was solved easily by the dead man's empty and very malleable hands.

"As tu fini? Retournez aux catacombes, il est temps de commencer." a gruff voice said before suddenly shutting off, likely to prevent tracking.

Knowing what had to be done, the Vessel moves towards the sobbing woman, place a hand on her shoulder before saying in quiet but hard tone, "I know where he is, call the police, tell them about the men who attacked you, they will help you" moving quickly from the alley, knowing there wasn't much time, even as the woman looked up and tried to grab him to explain.

But before he completely left the alley, he came to sudden stop, his body looking like he had frozen solid. Then he quickly threw his head over his shoulder and yelled, "I will get him back, I promise. I-ah, We will save him" his voice picking up its resonance from before near the end. But that wasn't what made that woman stop in her track, it wasn't what made her eyes dry and for her heart to swore. It was the smile he made.

This was not a smile that was cold, disturbing and unnatural. This smile was so bright, full of warmth, so much of it in fact that it seemed to melt away the coldness that had seemed to defined him before, like he was someone else entirely.

Either way, as he disappeared in a burst of speed, the woman could not help herself to smile, knowing that her sun and stars had a savior come to help him.

* * *

 **Hey everyone. This chapter was originally supposed to be much longer but I felt like I wanted to do some more work on the second half and wanted to giver you guys an christmas present.**

 **Now at the end here I just felt like addressing some things. To anyone who's wondering where I'm going to take this story in regards to the possibility of pairings, I'm going to be frank and say that Romance was never a major concern when outlining this story. While I am planning on having romance and sex being involved in the story(Actual crucial plot detail. No, I'm not screwing with you) I will get it out of the way and say that for Robert, after dying, losing everything and being thrown into a world of mythical beasts, monsters and other horrors, has not thought once about romance, sex or anything in between. Once things calm down a bit then will he be able to actually think about settling in a little, be ready to tango with the beast with two back and all that other jazz, but do not expect him to suddenly have a harem following him within the first 6 chapters. I have nothing against harems, in fact Ii kind of like them in a way, but that's not the story I want to tell. I'm a firm believer that life is not fair, some people get all the luck, some get jack shit, some get just enough and some get only one "lucky break" and then need to make their own luck. That is the story I want to tell. About a kid thrust into a world based on pure luck, is given the power to overcome the obstacles fate presents him with but walks a fine line between victory and utter destruction.**

 **Answers to reviews:**

 **PasiveNox : Yeah, this is my first foray into semi-serious writing(except for that one time). Though, and I am saying this with complete sincerity, if you have methods, tips or tricks that would help me improve, I'm all ears. Trust me, I used to be far worse, I only got to where I am through criticism(Most of it the strictly NOT constructive type) and practice.**

 **Kamencolin : No… I'm going to try and do even better. Thanks for the encouragement though.**

 **Steinerdavion2183 : Well, who would you like to be Ruler? I did say you could offer suggestions, do you have any you feel would be good for the class?**

 **Vvfdfdvfv : None of him, love him, but nope.**

 **Neema Amiry : I hope one day I'll go from "okay" to, "all right"**

 **luclid : There will be no lovable Foxy caster. While I like her I felt having her as a caster and Waifu bait was overused so the being we know as Tamamo-no-Mae will not show up in this story. Yes he will learn magic and he does have magical circuits, but due to his circumstances as having never used magic before, the "unique" nature of his caster, and the nature of the Servant cards, his potential as a mage is 3'rd rank at best. Shirou Emiya would make a better mage than him... let that sink in. At the most he could learn some half decent reinforcement, projection, some minor magecraft like healing, Runecraft and maybe learn how to make a Geis, but in the end his power will be reliant on his Servant cards, with his own magical skills being something of a fall back in case he for some reason can't rely on the cards. Saying that, there's nothing him from using his limited magical abilities to learn how to fight, and I have an idea of how to give him a little toy to play around with… let's just say that before Vlad the III there was another Hungarian that has had history label them a monster for their acts against nature and human decency, though this version is more than a little different from the one you may be familiar with.**

 **Guest: One Servant is from the land of the rising sun and the other is… Sort of yes?...kinda?...it's not him as he was but technically IT is still him… it's complicated, because type-moon is complicated.**

 **(sonic) Guest: Thank you!12234**

 **Goodnight, Merry Christmas and Happy holidays to all.**


	4. Chapter 4: Small Bind

**...heeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy everyone….. Turns out I suck at time management… like really hard…. I'm not gonna make excuses for why my updates are so inconsistent, I just suck at time management.**

 **Anyway, even without my terrible scheduling this chapter took a LOT longer than I thought, rewrote this bloody thing more times than I could count.**

 **Before the Story Starts, I recommend you go Visit the Fanfic "The Last Master" by Woona Cat. If you are wondering why I am plugging this guy, well, the story is badass. The second reason is a bit more personal, but if any of you frequent the Writer Anonymous forum you may know what I mean.**

 **But enough yapping, I'll get into what you came for.**

 **Here it is, Chapter 4: Off-suit**

 **This chapter was beta'd by ByzantineAlter. Check him out, nice dude.**

"Normal speech"

'Internal Dialogue, also known as talking in your head'

 **"Words with Power in them"**

 _"Saying a Spell"_

"Overlapping voices"

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/stay Night, Fate Grand Order or High School DxD, Just the Original concepts and plot in this story.**

 **This Crossover is a completely AU.**

 **The Cover Picture is done by DarkHunter8506 from DeviantArt who has kindly allowed me to use this as my cover.**

 **This is my first fic, so please tell what you think.**

 **A Winning Hand: Off-suit**

* * *

If one were feeling particularly artsy, Macabre would be an apt word to describe the Catacombs underneath Paris.

A more common way would be dark, creepy and claustrophobic.

A maze of winding passages lined with the bones and cobwebs, it isn't unheard of unlucky or stupid adventures being lost in the tunnels for days, and some never returning, the dark halls haunted by the dead who wish for others to join their eternal slumber, or at least the internet myths say.

Whether or not this is true, it can not be said that if you want to disappear, the catacombs are far from a bad choice, necessarily for the would-be practitioners of the dark arts and other occult debauchees, so long as you don't mind the very real possibility of becoming apart of the morbid collection at least.

And by the end of the night, there will certainly be more than a few heads to add to these halls, for where two twisted beings make contact, destruction is near assured.

* * *

After some time racing to his destination, being careful to dodge any cameras or groups of people so as to avoid detection, the coat clad executioner was finally able to reach his destination.

The entrance was nothing more simple looking shed, not much making it stand out compared to the buildings around it. Far from a tourist attraction, this is a place you would have to be actively searching for to even notice.

While the Vessel would have felt comfortable merely asking for permission to enter the tombs on any other occasion, this was far from ordinary, and the Vessel was 100% prepared to merely bull rush any security to reach its target, the chance at breaking the Masquerade be damned.

Thankfully, and not so thankfully, for the Vessel, that option was seemingly taken away by another party.

The door was already open, a note hanging on reading (Begins at 11:30). The lone security guard at his post had a thousand yard stare, drool falling from his open limp mouth as this soulless husk, a living corpse merely imitating life, was used as a prop to keep a veil of normalcy around the area, a victim of powers far beyond his ability to combat.

While unfortunate, the Vessel didn't bother pausing any further to aid this creature, for there was nothing he could do, killing and medicine were it's forte, not spiritual healing.

As the Vessel marched through the dark catacombs, the only light coming from the small flashlight of a mobile phone, It's mind refusing to budge on its single-minded purpose to find the guilty and hand down their punishment, and save the child, of course, the Vessel's limited magical ability began to feel something… off, further down the tunnels.

While at first, the feeling was hard to comprehend, it merely being a feeling similar to goosebumps, the closer the Vessel draws towards it, to more clear the feeling becomes. This was a dark power that could never be properly wielded by human hands.

It was a power while the Vessel could definitely say it had absolutely no experience with, at the same time it was far too knowledgeable with what the presence of this power meant to be any bit comfortable with that reality.

"Oh lord, give us the strength to face the trials ahead, and to shield me from the darkness to come." prayed the Vessel, it's right hand making the symbol of the Trinity across its chest as it moved further and further towards its target, faith and determination to so what is right pushing him further and further towards evils mortals should never have to ever deal with.

* * *

Deep, deep below the city streets of Paris, in a part of the catacombs untouched and undisturbed by the public eye, only known to a certain sect of deviants and debaucherous monsters, two cloaked figures stand outside of a large door, each clad in dark robes with Kevlar armor underneath, one wielding an sub-machine gun while the other merely held a club and lantern, illuminating only a small part of the dark network. Both prepared to give their lives in glorius carnage to keep their brotherhood's secrecy.

But as the two guards stared into the darkness ahead, the one with the club and lantern turned to his complained and said: "Do you ever wonder why we're here?"

His fellow occultist thought about it for a second before merely shrugged his shoulders, still looking ahead and replied, "That's one of life's great mysteries, isn't it? Why are we here? Are we the product of some cosmic coincidence? Or is there a God who created us... with a plan. I dunno, but the thought keeps me up at night, man. It's why we do what we do right, to get answers? To delve beyond the veil" rambled the increasingly sidetracked and introspective guard.

The club-wielding guard merely turns his head, the lower half of his face not covered by his cloak was stuck in baffled confusion.

"No man, I meant why the Hell we're standing out here like a bunch of morons day in and day out, while the others get to help the great Magister with the ritual to retrieve our saint. We're just standing here with our dicks out because nothing ever facking comes here but more of use and the cattle." the guard grumbles, "besides, what the hell you talkin' about with all this, 'is there a God crap'? Do you seriously know anything about the Brotherhood? Why do you think we're doing fackin' blood rituals and occult sacrifices, shits, and giggles!?"

"Uhm, well, no, it's just well, I meant…" the guard begins to explain himself when he's suddenly interrupted by a calm, melodious voice.

"It's time, Join us brothers" the voice commanded, as the door opens to the inner chamber.

"Yes Magister" the two guards speak in inhuman unison, their bodies shuffling like puppets as they go to join their dark master.

As the two enter through the door, no one notices a dark figure just etch through the closing door, his presence undetected as the dark power grows.

As the two cultists shamble further and further towards their master, neither notice in their alter state how, slowly and slowly, their skin turns pale, their veins darken, and blood pours from their mouths, nose, ears, and eyes and their life begins to loosen from their mortal bodies.

The Dark figure does however and hastens it's pace to the epicenter of power, realizing that time is almost up, quickly decapitating two cultists with a single swing of its blade, making their deaths quick and painless so as to spare them the pain that would have come.

Once the Dark figure makes it two the dark epicenter, the most inner chamber of the catacombs, the Vessel's suspicions are confirmed.

Hundreds of men in dark cloaks, all with dark blood flowing from their dying bodies to a 'man' in the center, standing over a bloody altar, where a fair blond child was laid down, his eyes rolled into the back of his head as blood flowed out of a small cut on his neck, his life draining like all these sinners into a golden goblet held in the 'Man's' hand, a bloodied dagger in his left hand.

As the Vessel is about to reveal itself, to rush in and stop this dark ritual, it suddenly falls to a knee, it's host beginning to tear from the stress.

Catio screams as he slams his fist into the ground, the pain his body was in only now hitting him with the power that had allowed him to be a Vessel was now drained, the white receding from his hair as his eyes losing cold glow they had when working with the spirit of the card, only the sword and coat remaining but they too are beginning to fade away.

He grits his teeth, swallows down his screams and rises back up to his feet, his large sword being used as a crutch to keep himself standing as both his body and mind recover from the strain they were under, his whole body feeling like ti was on fire.

By now, he's lost the element of surprise, the Cult Leader staring at him with exaggerated amusement, the kind you see on a child ripping legs off an ant.

"Bienvenue sur mon site web, dit l'araignée à la volée." the being says in a mocking tone, the meaning lost to Robert due to his inability to understand any French.

"Uh, I no speaka la Francaise, if you're gonna mock me, can we at least do this is a language I can actually be insulted in" Robert dryly retorts, using the time he had to gather his strength again.

The Being's face shifts to undisguised disgust, "Ugh, Americans." he spits. He recovers his faux smile rather quickly though, using his free hand to smooth over his hair to show off his face. "It's just like you cowboys to try and play hero in a place where you understand nothing."

"Oh that is B.S. and you know it! What you're doing is evil plain and simple, the kind of stuff fit for only the most sick and debased of monsters." Robert shoots back with a surprising amount of force, his anger helping to distract from his pain.

The being's face freezes at that retort, it's face slowly stretching into a grin that did not fit on a human face, his rows of teeth glistening in the candlelight. "What do you know about monsters, boy? What do you know of the things that go bump in the night, of what awaits for you after death!?" the being screams as it's free hand slams down on a piece of the altar, smashing it into pieces, sending the boy rolling down onto the floor.

"More than you know," Robert said with an edge of steel in his voice. "What is the purpose of this Devil? What need do you of all this death, mayhem and sin?"

With a dramatic twirl, the being twists around, showing his back to his opponent, and began the most classic of villain tropes, the evil monologue. "Hm, these fools believe that I could give to them their patron 'saint', the one that thinks calls to their black hearts. I offered to give it to them, to unite them with their liege. I merely don't mention that it would be in hell" the Devil remarks, a pair of leathery black wings jetting out from its back, "With the Blood of hundreds, and a proper anchor to a resident of Malebolge, the deepest pit of Hell, I shall feed on their sin encrusted souls, and ascend to a higher plain." The madman begins to cackle like a loon, his eyes wide with madness as he brings the chalice to his lips and drinks deep from the life-essence. "And as Six is the Number of the Beast, so shall I feed on 6 great hell-drenched souls to prove my Might!" the never ending blood begins to crackle and glow as energy begins to flow through it into the devil.

While the quite literally fool was monologuing though, he hadn't noticed Robert rush the platform he was standing on, using the last of his strength to try and stop this dark act.

The Devil doesn't even flinch when he notices a massive greatsword stab straight through his gut, nearly bisecting him with the width of the blade, he just continues to drink, drink, drink more from the cup, all sense of danger lost in a wave of power and pleasure his body beginning to leak a disgusting dark red aura.

Robert pushes the executioner's blade further and further into the monster, with little effect. Seeing one last chance to harm the monster, he grabs the dagger from the madman's hand and thrusts it straight into it's heart, dark ichor splattering all over his face.

That seemed to do the trick, the Devil's expression switching in a fraction of a second from dark ecstasy to mind-boggling horror. As Robert backed off from the flailing devil, making sure to retch out the executioner's greatsword with him, he could see the devil's skin begin to crack and the sound of a legion of screams begin to fill the chamber.

Knowing that this was not going to go well in any sense of the word, Robert ran towards the(thankfully still alive) boy, slung him into a bridal hold, refusing to allow this poor boy that he swore to recuse to die in this terrible hole, and ran as far as his legs could take him, his fear pushing him to heights beyond his normal capabilities.

And so he ran, ran as fast as his legs could take him, desperately trying to remember which path he had taken when he was one with that Spirit, determined to no not stay in this cursed place for a second more.

He only makes it about halfway to where he remembered the entrance was when a massive scream erupts behind him, the earth shaking so much the catacombs itself seem to groan from the pressure put on the foundation, the shaking causing him to lose his footing and to crash hard into a coming wall, making sure to keep the boy from receiving the full impact by turning in mid-fall so that only he revives the crash.

While he is laying on the ground in pain and the world continues to rumble, an ethereal being cloaked in a blood red aura rushes towards them, a furious scream emanating from the spirit.

Despite his terror, Robert covers the drained boy with his own boy, trying to shield the child from this frightening spirit.

This sacrifice was shown unnecessary though as the red drenched spirit merely rushes over them, not even seeming to recognize their existence, it's mind on something far beyond them.

But just as the first sores into the further darkness, more wraiths follow behind, 4 different spirits rushing by so fast that they appeared only as red blurs, each one of their howls seeming to be even more horrible than the last.

It took a few seconds for Robert to snap out of his terror stricken state and recognize that the danger was gone and that he needed to leave NOW, lest something even more terrible emerged from the darkness and tear him and the boy to shreds, jumping to his feet and resuming his back to the surface, less panicked than before but still forcing himself to not jump at every skull highlighted by what little light remained, following the distant screams of the wraiths.

When he sees the light of the sun he moves with even more speed, desperate to save the fragile live in his hands and to be out those horrible crypts. As he rushes up the steps, he hears the sounds of police sirens, a mix of panic and relief in his heart as a sense of comfort returns to his heart, knowing that sweet, sweet safety was close at hand.

As he stumbles out the open doorway of the shed into the dawn of Paris, surrounded on all side by confused and dazed french police, most staring dazed into the sky as little red blips move further and further out of view, it takes everything he has not to just collapse to the ground and vomit, his nerves finally hitting him with full force as the adrenaline begins to fade, and so instead he cries.

* * *

After a few hours of questioning(read: Interrogating), Robert was able to worm his way out of any real jail time due to his oblivious foreign status and obviously disheveled state, the weird gear he used had already faded into the ether before the cops saw him, along with a few truthful answers that were missing some key(magical) details. Who would have thought that running away from the scene of a cult kidnapping with a rescued hostage and looking like you had seen worse than hell itself would make people think you were a hero, or at the very least another victim?

The Cops were nice enough to give Caito some leftovers they had in the staff room. Wasn't enough to fill him back up to full energy but good enough to satisfy his hunger. After that, they let him crash on a couch while they finished trying to get in contact wit h the boy's mother and work over the information he had given them, at which he then proceeded to immediately pass out the second his head hit the semi-soft fabric of the couch.

Now you see, this whole time, Robert had been pushing the issue of 'HOLY SHIT MAGIC, MONSTERS AND DIMENSION HOPPING ARE ALL REAL' along with 'I KILLED SO MANY PEOPLE!' deep into his subconscious, in part due to not really wanting to confront those very uncomfortable truths in the middle of a life or death situation as well because he was kind of unconsciously hoping that if he refused to acknowledge all this insanity then maybe it would just go away. A childish, but oh so very human reaction to fully understanding their place in the universe, very, very small.

So when he found himself waking up in a room that he was 110% certain he had never even seen before, staring at a man sitting across from him that while he couldn't say he knew personally, could definitely say he was far too familiar with to be a total stranger, he understood that from now on, the rest of his life, however long that was, was going to be so very far from what he considered, 'normal'.

For a while, the two just sit still staring into each others eyes, light blue meeting amber as a uncomfortable silence fills the room, the sound of a crackling fire being the only thing that dared to even move. Wanting to use what little time he had before the inevitable began, Caito closely examined the man in front of him.

The man looked young, but his near pure white hair and very old eyes told a different story. They were cold, marred with a tired sadness fit for someone who had seen too much of life's misfortunes and horrors, almost no energy present in them, like he could die at any instant and most wouldn't even be any bit the wiser. He was clad in a black trench-coat with white symbols all over, a pauldron shaped like a bladed horse's head on each shoulder, the man looked like something you would expect from a shadowy secret police, an oh too recognizable obsidian executioner's blade leaning along the side of his chair.

"..."

"..."

"...Thank you" Robert whispered out, his words, while silent, were quite genuine, gratitude palpable with each sylable.

The Executioner seems genuinely surprised by his thanks, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side like child would before a small honest smile comes across his face, "Well, it was only proper that I help you. What kind of Servant would I be to let my Master suffer and watch such injustice happen while he was powerless to stop it? It only makes sense that as long as you abide by the right path, I shall always obey you, granting you my power to uphold righteousness." he says with a polite bluntness, his smile seeming to grow ever so slightly as he talks.

It takes a few minutes before Robert responds with his own question, "... So…"

"Yes…" The man responds to the unsaid question, knowing full the confusing plagueing the boy's mind and wishing to clear it up as soon as possible.

"..."

"..."

"... You're Sanson, right? The Hero?"

The black-clad man nods, "Servant, Assassin. Charles-Henri Sanson, The Royal Executioner of France and later High Executioner of the First French Republic. I have answered your summon from the Class Cards as Heroic Spirit. While I do admit this form of summoning is unfamiliar to me, as well as my purpose without a grail war to fight in, I am at least glad to know that I still received a Master that I can serve with honor and distinction"

blushing slightly from the compliments strewn on him, Caito mumbles"... I guess this beats death, even if that troglodyte is just probably using me as a guinea pig" raising a hand to his forehead, rubbing the center of his eys desperately to try and avoid the coming headache. "Hrrrrrmm"

After dealing with that, he raises his head back to face his new companion, "I suppose we're in this together… whatever this is."

This seems to amuse Sanson slightly, even cracks a small grin on his face, "That it seems. Do not worry master, I swear with a sacred vow, that I shall protect your neck until the end. The actions you showed earlier under our impromptu cooperation prove we are more than compatible with each other. While I can't say I am the strongest, stealthiest, nor most powerful servant, I swear that so long as your blade is only caked in the blood of the Guilty, I shall serve you until the very end with not a second of hesitation or regret" as he says this he rises from his chair, walking to a halfway point between our two chairs.

Slightly stunned by such a declaration, with only barely a second of deliberation, Robert rises as well and walks to meet him.

When they are but a foot away, Robert stretches out his hand, a firm steel in his eyes as the two men grip hands, a partnership created between between the two forged in the oldest and most sacred of contracts, a handshake.

"Hhmm, thank you Master. I look forward to the days to come. Though, from what I can sense, I believe our time is up." Sanson says as he releases his grip, the room beginning to fade to white. "Don't worry, i'm sure we will see each other soon."

* * *

As his master returns to the realm of the living, Sanson barks to figure hidden in the corner of the room, "Someone like you should understand that it is quite rude to listen in on such a private conversation."

A more confident masculine voices retorts, "It's not really listening in if we all could hear it.", the figure stepping out of the shadows and jumping into a free chair, positioning himself in such a way that he din't have a care in the world

Sanson turns to glare at his unwelcomed guest, "You know as well as me that I was only called first due to our resonance with the situation, location and our Master' temperament."

"Hrrrm, should have really been the big guy, but he's been such a waste since the call that all he does is mope in his room. Not really heroic if yah ask me" the man says as he picks his teeth with a pointed stick.

"... have you made your decision yet?" Sanson asked as he grabbed his greatsword and began to practice his swings, trying to ignore his frustration with the poor manners of his 'guest'.

"Eh, the kid seems all right. If this were a normal contract I'd be fine with the kid being my master, but with how this whole thing works..." the voice says, his words trailing off into his own private conversation. "Huh, anyway, I do have to admit, the kid has got potential. If he was born in my time he'd probably be serving with the Rest of the Order." the man barks out with mild laughter.

Maybe, but right now-" he was about to continue when suddenly a scream echoes through the world,

"CLASS CARD ASSASSIN, INSTALL!" and without even a flash, Sanson was gone.

"... well that can't be good." the voice says as he begins to move to another door, one made to look like an overgrown tree with runic symbols carved into it.

"Don't die on us Kid, I want to take you out for a test drive Myself!" the man yells out into the void before closing the door behind him, all trace of it's existence gone as well.

* * *

He was suddenly in the real world, his blade in hand, his beloved Paris in flames. Behind him, he faintly hears the whimpering of women and children

Ahead of him, was the devil they had faced before. But he was different now. Gone was that arrogant obsessiveness, the face it had now was filled with only bloodlust, sadism and complete and utter madness. Radiating a power that he was far, far too familiar with… that of a Heroic Spirit.

The Spirit's seems surprised for a moment, likely not expecting his sudden intrusion, before twisting into an unnatural, feral grin, "HA, I WAS GETTING BORED OF KILLING FRAIL, STUPID CHILDREN IN UNIFORMS, BUT NOW ITS SEEMS I FACE A SOMEONE WITH SOME HEART! I WONDER HOW IT TASTES!? COME, SEE IF YOU ARE A MATCH FOR THE MONSTER OF BRITTANY!" And then in an instant, the world was replaced by a hail of iron and blood.

* * *

 **Hey everyone. Sorry this took so long to write, had a bit(A LOT) of writer's block. I want to say thanks to everyone who Favorited and followed me and this story and everyone who took the time to review. I really am blown away by the reception, I hope not to disappoint.**

 **Answers to reviews:**

 **ByzantineAlter: Thanks again for being my beta**

 **Steinerdavion2183: Glad to see I'm doing something right.**

 **Kamencolin: Sanson hates the taking of life no matter who they are, and hates suffering above all, and he sees his execution as something that wipes away sins, so in his (albeit twisted) mind, they are sinless beings now and deserve rest.**

 **PasiveNox: Thanks, better than, 'Meh its fine'**

 **Neema Amiry: I shall seek to give you more**

 **Davycrockett100: Thanks**

 **AngelFaux: Yeah, I'm seeking to correct those. On the subject of slash, as I said before, romance is Not something I am placing a large deal on.**

 **Sonic: I'm glad you did**

 **Desdelor97: Thank you and I shall certainly try**

 **DGS: Thanks for the review**

 **Blinded in a bolthole: While it's true that any of the Hassan would have been better assassins, I mean, it's in their damn names, I choose CHS because I felt like he was a character that a lot of interesting ideas could be played with. An executioner who devoted his life to the achieving the painless kill, but regrets the lives of the many innocent he ended when he was alive. To me, the idea of the Servants isn't just about how awesome a mythical or historical character is, its about looking at these people, larger than life legends, are given a second chance in a way, free from their old obligations to show who they really are. …..Also it's because I like his character design and the poor guy doesn't often get to show off off his stuff, he is still a Heroic spirit after all.**

 **"Guest": While I originally thought you were someone else, the guy below actually, you're are most likely a troll trying to piss me off. But then again, I guess it's kind of cool I got my first troll comment. Besides, even if it is a troll review, its still a review. So thanks for artificially bumping up my numbers. ;)**

 **Leona-do** **: Reviews are not a good way to contact me, that's what the P.M. box is for. Besides, read the Plagiarism Forum for more info. I don't mind an extra review or two to artificially inflate my numbers but I'd rather my story review section be filled with things related to the story, not stuff related to the Plagiarism Forums. 'Sides, now that you got rid of the obvious case of plagiarism, I can only hope you get back to writing your own stories instead of stealing them, though i'll never know 'cause I ain't reading your shit ever again.**

 **Thanks for reading and hope I hope you enjoyed.**


	5. Chapter 5: Off-Suit

**Hello again, I was able to write a lot more than I thought I would so this chapter should be coming out much sooner than my last. This would have come out sooner but I did a bunch or rewrites to fix smaller issues. I find listening to type-moon music has really been getting my inspiration growing, I swear I listened to Nightmare Sea over 50 times, it's just "THE GREATEST COOL!", but there's a lot of other songs that I'm definitely a huge fan of. Has given me lots of fun ideas to use later. That and the new event,**

 **(I AM CURRENTLY GRINDING THE SHIT OUT OF THE KARA NO KYOUKAI EVENT. I WANT STABBY WAIFU AT MAX ASCENSION!)**

 **Before the story starts, I want to give a quick shoutout to "Fate: FINAL Night", "Fate:stay night: The Dragon of the Seventh Heaven" and "** **Death's Eyes on this Wonderful World"** **, three fun TYPE-MOON crossover stories I have found that, while short for now, are quite fun to read and deserve to be read.**

 **This chapter was beta'd by ByzantineAlter. Check him out, nice dude.**

"Normal speech"

'Internal Dialogue, also known as talking in your head'

 **"Words with Power in them"**

 _"Saying a Spell"_

"Overlapping voices"

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/stay Night, Fate Grand Order or High School DxD, Just the Original concepts and plot in this story.**

 **This Crossover is a completely AU.**

 **The Cover Picture is done by DarkHunter8506 from DeviantArt who has kindly allowed me to use this as my cover.**

 **This is my first fic, so please tell what you think, I appreciate every review and would love to know your options.**

 **Now onto the story**

* * *

3 Hours Earlier

As the Police lights flash in the Paris streets, two eyes watch the proceedings with a sense of frustration beginning to build.

Atop a balcony stretching out from a highly rated hotel penthouse, a fairly average looking man dressed in clerical robes covered by a black long-coat was viewing the occurrence through a pair of special binoculars, a small light beeping as he searched high and low for his target, his pupils moving constantly as he attempted to follow each and every police officer, civilian and car that came within a dozen feet of the rapidly growing police barricade, watching the light to see if there were any changes.

"You do realize you look like a complete Pox just squinting off into the distance. I can't tell if you're nearsighted or just constipated, and frankly I can't tell which of those makes you less of a bollix." mocks a voice further in the penthouse, the words causing the watcher to slightly twitch but not taking his eyes off the police quarantine.

The man shrugs and replies in a caustic, biting tone, "If you had done the Job you were hired to do, then maybe I wouldn't be watching the authorities surrounding a massive epicenter of supernatural energy, but who knows, after all, I'm just the nearsighted, constipated Pox that pays you because I was a big enough Bollix to think that someone with your reputation would be able to do THE JOB SHE WAS HIRED TO DO A MONTH AGO!" his attention at this point was far from the quarantine and was now facing with a, in his own option at least, good for nothing, arrogant, alcoholic, belligerent, contemptuous, immoral, debaucherous, heretical, waste of money and time wrapped up in the shape more fitting of a devil from the Second circle than as an officially licensed Church Executor, "... wouldn't you agree, 'Partner'?" his right eye twitching to such a degree that it looks like he just had a massive stroke.

The 'Partner' he was aiming a glare so full of venom that it could kill an Elephant with but a drop was certainly not someone you saw on the street, let alone saw anywhere outside of a painting depicting the gods of ancient love and beauty.

She is far and above an extremely beautiful woman, exuding a subtle power that made all eyes turn to her and feel humbled and awed. Her long flowing red hair and red eyes alone would have made many men and woman melt with but a parting glance, but along with some fine silk clothing that aptly showed off her firm, curvaceous body, she would have been a showstopper whenever and wherever she went, with every door, bank account and chastity belt being open for her to do whatever she wished.

Now if only her personality was as enrapturing as her appearance.

"Tch, did you accidentally cut yourself ramming that giant stick up your ass, or are you just mad that 'cause you messed up, Father's not going to pat you on the head and tell you what a good boy you are? 'Oh Yes Charles, you're such a good boy, always doing what your loving Father tells you, being so loyal, never telling anyone about the fun games we play during our bonding time, I think you deserve a reward'" she then proceeds to jam a finger into a circle she made with her other hand, all while moaning "'Oh god I missed your tight little ass. That's right, tell me who's daddy, I'm your daddy, because your real daddy is just some drunk who f-" her tirade is interrupted as the man she continued to berate and mock, Charles, fires a bullet right between her yes, his own cold and lifeless as he fires again and again into her bleeding body, only stopping once the distinctive sound of an empty magazine clicking can be heard.

Her body is now riddled with bullet holes, blood seeping into the floor and carpet as Charles calmly empties the magazine and reloads with a spare on the table, not a care in the world evident on his face as he hums a song he heard on the radio a day or two ago.

After a few minutes of working on his pistol, a distinct, "Ehmmmm" can be heard in front of him. Putting on an obviously fake smile, Charles calmly puts his gun to the side out of immediate reach and looks up to see the woman he just shot not five minutes ago standing up and giving him the evil eye, her fine clothing stained with blood an with severe puncture wounds but not a scratch on her perfect skin, her face a cold lifeless mask as she examines him like a butcher would new meat.

Giving the woman he so despised one last cheeky grin, Charles says with a tone of such false calm and kindness it wouldn't have been able to trick a blind, deaf man, "Oh, did you have anything else to say you fucking Heathen? If so, just give me time to call up the Father himself so you can directly tell him yourself you are going to break on your contract and so have lost the sanction of the Church and it's protection?", he picks up a phone right next to him, already pre-registered to call their superior in case of an emergency, and hands it to her, "Go on then, I'm sure they'd love to hear how WONDERFULLY the mission is going." his hate-filled smile brimming with malice as the woman with calm precision picks up the phone, his empty hand beginning to tighten into a rock hard fist.

It only takes a few moments after picking up the phone before the Woman's face shifts from cold anger into burning rage as she crushes the phone in her hand and lunges at her 'partner', her screams of rage mixed in with her cooperative's manic laughter as they attempt to rip each other limb from limb, the sounds of their ensuing fight being so loud and violent that even the protective wards meant to give them privacy do little to disguise what most normal people would consider the most dysfunctional honeymoon known to man. For them however, this was just an average Monday.

All the while they fight, neither of them notice the small light on the binoculars suddenly beep rapidly as a leather jacket wearing figure rushes up into sight of the supernatural hot zone, and within only a few seconds, the bulb burst out of sheer overuse, both of them none the wiser of what they had let slip through their grasp.

* * *

When most people say, "It was like being a passenger in my own body", they are usually being metaphorical for some large issue at play.

Robert Caito on the other hand could quite literally say he was a passenger in his own body, as he could see his body, changed and shaped into a new form but still very much his if the pain he was feeling was anything to go by, move with impossible speeds, desperately trying to hold back a tidal wave of fire and fury, while he appeared to be in a white void, the only thing telling this space had walls were two doors. One, a well decorated and embodied, but otherwise of a simple spartan design, and another made from wood with branches out from it, runic symbols carved all over. He figured through deductive reasoning that this was probably some sort of manifestation of his mind, and with Sanson at the wheel, all he could be was a backseat driver, trying to get used to this odd feeling as he watched the events in the real world take place on a massive screen, shot from what he guessed was Sanson's eyes, the screen flicking to black every few second as he assumed even Heroic Spirits needed to blink.

It seemed like with in the span of a single second this Devil was swinging it's blade at least 3 times, the speed only matched by the force behind each one, with each blow having the power to demolish whatever was in it's way and, in one particularly painful case, knock him through a building, the enhanced nature of his transformation being the only thing preventing him from being turned into fine red paste.

While he wasn't exactly sure HOW he knew, Caito understood on a semi-spiritual level that what he had done in his moment of panic when he first realized that the Devil was about to attack him was to actually _Summon_ Sanson, using his body as a Vessel for the full power for the Heroic spirit, _INSTALLing_ him into his body. Unlike before where he _INCLUDEd_ him and how they were worked in tandem as one entity to handle the muggers, now only the Heroic Spirit Sanson was in charge, and honestly, Robert was very okay with this arrangement.

He knew that if he was in this situation that he would not have stood a snowball's chance in hell even with someone like Sanson guiding him. He was simply too inexperienced and while he and Sanson trusted each other, they did not know each other well enough to be able to work in perfect tandem against a opponent like this.

In a fight for your life, even a second of lost concentration can spell death. And when staring into the Demonically warped face of the Monster of Brittany himself, very few could say they wouldn't falter. The Worse thing you can be is someone who doesn't know his limits, and Robert was painfully aware that his limits would not be enough.

"Ahhahahahahaha! Oh Yes! I Can **FEEEEEL** The Sin! You're Absolutely Drenched In It! Tell me, How many did you **KILL**? How many family did you Butcher to have such a **WONDERFUL** Aroma around you" slobbers the madman, as he takes the time to stop the fight and bring his weapon up to his face, his devil-like tongue licking away at his blood-soaked blade.

In the few seconds before the fight begins and Sanson makes his move, Robert quickly examines their opponent.

While on a surface level you could say he was the same Devil we had run into beneath the earth, The Magister, that would only be surface level similarities.

His formerly short brown hair had become long and black, a ragged untamed main that looked more at home on a furious animal than on a human, his sword resembling a serrated butcher's knife than any proper weapon of war. His once clean face was now marked with lines all over, some scars, other frown lines, and some merely cracks were a red light beamed out. Atop his head grew a pair of goat like horns, each protrusion at least 2 inches thick and hard enough to block a strike from Sanson's sword. His body was now cloaked in a dark mockery of knightly armor, with it being a dark rusted red with lines of bright glowing crimson running throughout it like a system of unholy veins, seeming to jut and pulse around as the Demon moved, spikes jutting out of seemingly random places on the armor, two large bat wings jutting out of holes in the back, the new limbs granting him such speed that he was easily able to outpace Sanson.

The sheer force his monstrous strength and speed granted him making him into a an unholy battering ram, Sanson only being able to survive his blows thanks to his skill with the sword, being just able to deflect his foe's strikes at just the right moment so as to send the crazed killer into a wall or other such obstacle, giving him enough time to retreat further back, the cycle repeating. The whole thing resembles a twisted bullfight, with the main difference being that both sides were trying to end the other.

Without a word, Sanson lept at the mad sinner, his executioner's blade flowing into a blur of Quick slashes and stabs, each creating small gashes on the Devil's armored frame, Sanson's entire mind focused solely on eliminating his target.

This seemed only to amuse him though, as in the blink of an eye his blade is headed right towards their neck.

"SANSON!"

It was only due to sheer terror that Caito was able to yell to Sanson, breaking him from his single minded goal and moving his sword up just enough so that the powerful strike merely sent them flying instead of decapitating them.

This blow sent them inside of an hotel room, ruining a couple's post-coitus bliss as they crash through the bedroom window, flying right over their heads and landing in a dresser. Not sparing a second to even acknowledge the two very frighten and extremely naked non-combatants, Sanson immediately rushes back out into the fray, stopped when he once again hears his master's voice tell him to instead rush inside the building. Not sure of his master's plan, he follows through, sending a fleeting apologetic look to the couple as he rushes out their door into the hotel.

Within a few seconds, another, larger, more spiking figure flies into the room, his presence alone making the frighten couple shake under the covers. Thankfully for them, in his lust to spill his target's blood, he doesn't even take notice of the meat bags around him due to their lacking magical presence, immediately spotting the open door, and pursuing in kind, his massive bulky spiky frame tearing apart the side of the door as he barges through, the sounds of unhinged laughter echoing down the long halls...

(The couple they had so unpleasantly disturbed would later leave their old lives behind to become paranormal investigators, absolutely certain that the beings that disturbed them were in fact, powerful alien lifeforms hiding underneath the earth preparing their horrific invasion. They would go on many great adventures, face many a foe, uncover secrets lost to history and discover a truth far greater than they has ever thought possible… but this story is not about them nor about the Skarten Civilization hiding underneath the earth, secretly manipulating governments and waiting for a chance to invade and devour us, so let's get back to the chaos.)

* * *

"Master, what exactly is your plan? As I am, I don't have the power to kill that beast." pondered Sanson as he rushed down the hotel halls, doing his best to warn any person he saw to hide in their rooms and call the authorities. While often this wouldn't work, when a man in all black comes running down the hallways at you with a massive sword, most choose to do as he asked without even listening to his words.

"That guy is way to strong and fast to take on right now, so I brought you to a place where at least he can't use his full speed. You're an assassin, even if you're not strictly an assassin in profession, you've got presence concealment, which should be enough to get us some distance and enough time to come up with a good plan _"._ Caito rambled, desperately trying to hold down his terror and try to come up with some sort of a plan.

An idea pops into his head. "Your Noble Phantasm, that should take him down!" he asked with a twinge of desperation in his voice.

Sanson frowns as he explained to his unseen master, "I need time to do that, and a much more open space, both things we don't have so long as that beast is in hot pursuit." He frowns as he reaches the end of the hall, the only remaining door going to the emergency stairway. With no way to turn back, he busts down the door, the fire alarm blazing all around.

"Well then we need to get time. Ugh, for now, just get down to the bottom, we need open ground to use you to your fullest" Caito begins to pace around as he tries to come up with a suitable plan.

Taking his master's words quite literally, Sanson stops and peers down past the railing, seeing that he was at least 6 floors up, and leaps without a moment of hesitation down to the bottom. Thankfully, his master was suitably distracted to not notice this blatant act of insanity.

While to any normal human would have at the very least shattered both their legs and sustained intense internal bleeding, Servants are far from normal, with even a less powerful Heroic spirit like Sanson being able to ignore the damage a human would take from a fall of this height, landing with the grace as attributed to his class, not even taking a moment's rest as he rushed forward into the next hallway, the familiar sound of laughter just entering his hearing as the door shuts behind him.

It takes him awhile, but suddenly, an idea flash's in Robert's mind, his face contorting into a mad grin as a plan suddenly emerges. It's rash, desperate, mad and incredibly dangerous to both himself and possibly everyone in the immediate area if it fails… but he figures even a crazy plan is better than no plan, as he explains to his servant what needs to be done.

* * *

Hôtel de Castiglione was not having a good day. In fact, it would be 100% accurate to say it was having any absolutely shitty day.

Some kind of explosion happened on their top floor and the employees said a madman with a sword was running down the halls screaming at everyone to run away.

After that, the fire alarm was activated, causing most of their customers to start complaining to the main desk, while the employees were desperately trying to get them to actually leave instead of wait around and bitch about how their very expensive vacations were so inconvenienced by this.

They were only able to get the people to take this all seriously when the National Police began to surround the building all clad in hardware fit for ground warfare, the police ordering all civilians to immediately vacate the premises, armed escorts herding all the frightened tourists and hotel staff alike out the doors past a police barricade, having to move past the crowd of reporters that had just begun to surround the place.

In this rush of people they didn't even notice an odd looking white haired man clad in an ornamented long coat as he blended into the crowd, his presence completely concealed by the masses.

They had just barely gotten the last of the civilians out the doors when a hulking armored shape smashed through a nearby wall, killing a few unlucky officers who were close enough to be within immediate stabbing distance of the incoming monster as he bust through the stone.

The world seemed to freeze as everyone saw this Monster, this Demon, take it's sword and plunged it straight into the back of a downed officer, his screams echoing across the streets as the serrated blade ripped him apart, freezing even the most veteran of Officer in place with the sheer brutality and sick pleasure evident on his face.

"Que Dieu nous aide." whispered one officer as the strain finally became too much and he opened fire on the Monster, this act of courage snapping his comrades back to reality as they unloaded everything they could into the beast.

While the bullets themselves did little more than ding against his warped armor, the sheer volume of fire has pinned him down, his free arm desperately trying to shield his unprotected face from the deadly hail. Invigorated by their seeming success, the men let themselves hope that the monster before them was as mortal as them, and that through sheer force of arms, nothing could defeat them.

That hope was crushed as the Monster decided that this was enough playing around, his black wings unfolding, leaping high into the air as his demonic appendages let him sail right over the baffled police and diving straight into the large and juicy mob of reporters and civilians, all unguarded due to the zealotry of the police to finish him off.

But just as he was only a few feet above his target, their panic stricken expressions an ecstasy of pleasure for him, the Demon had to quickly swerve to the side to avoid being decapitated by his first target, the black clad executioner, who had been hiding within the crowd, waiting for the Monster of Brittany to lower his guard to get in a decisive strike, leaping up from the civilians with his sword poised to pierce through his target's neck. He was quite close, but the strike just barely missed, the t-shaped blade only taking off half of his neck, his spine just grazed, his head still very much attached.

Stunned by this unexpected blow, the Demon was thrown from the air as the impact of Sanson slamming into him as he tried to avoid the man's killing blow was enough to push the two supernatural fighters from the crowd and into a nearby square.

Sanson was able to recover first, rolling out of the way as the Monster lashed out with his sword trying to cut him down as it's open neck gushed blood, his wound already starting to heal at a rapid pace.

Sanson is able to avoid the reckless swings and move further and further into the square, his back now against a large obelisk as his foe starts to tire, his blows becoming less savage, less refined with every second until he finally stops, his crazed brown eyes turning dull and hollow.

This is enough to to cause Sanson pause himself, confused by this sudden drop in aggression. That moment of hesitation cost him as before he even realized the combat had begun again, the Monster's word had stabbed right through his left shoulder, his body now pinned to the monument, Sanson letting out a surprised scream of pain.

"Ah, my apologies for that, but I felt I needed to explain myself and I felt like a captive audience would be less likely to try and take my head," a calm collected voice announced, causing Sanson to look up in surprise to see the formerly berserk Monster had now suddenly shifted into an aristocratic noble, his form still the same but his pose, expression and even aura showed not the demonic Monster of Brittany, but the former noble, Gille de Rais.

* * *

The two supernatural beings stared at each other for a moment, the pinned Heroic Spirit's face awash with pain and confusion, The Demonic figure before him bearing a look of calm and refinement that looked wrong on such a monstrous and unholy form.

"I have to say the mortals really have outdone themselves. I would hear bits and pieces of what was going on in the world from the new arrivals in between the sessions, but I could never have imaged that one day Paris could be this clean and white." he said as he walked around the monument, admiring the city around him even as in the distance a massive army barricade was being erected, blocking off all access to the square, the sounds of sirens faintly heard in the distance.

"Hmmm, it's so much easier to admire the beauty of this place when you aren't screaming like a madman and your eyes aren't tinted red with blood" he mumbled to himself as he leaned on the side of the obelisk to the left of where Sanson was still stuck, his free arm trying to reach out for his sword without tearing his arm off.

"Oh yes, I was trying to explain that wasn't I? Well, as you could image, being suddenly shot out of Hell and being forced into," he gestures to his demonic form, a bitterness in his voice that was quite the surprise in part o his previous attitude, "this, is not exactly how I imagined my eternity would be going." he begins to pace around some more, "Although…" playing around with his gauntlet's claws, making his wings blow dust around and even cutting his own tongue, watching as within seconds the cut began to steam and had already closed, "I must say I am more than satisfied that even after all this time, all of my suffering and the suffering I caused, God has finally graced me with my truest calling." a deep satisfaction evident on his face.

Stricken by those words, and at the prodding of his master to, as I quote, "get him to keep monologuing", Sanson stopped his attempts at escape and merely looked towards the Devil and asked, "What?" A look of very real confusion plastered on Sanson's normally stoic face.

Gilles look towards his captive, seeming to ponder his words for a moment before a jovial smile crossed his face, "Are you a fellow believer in Our Most Holy Father, Creator of Heaven and Earth, He who hath given to us Our Most Holy Savior to cleanse away the Sins of the World?"

Sanson, seeing no reason to say anything but the truth, merely replied, "I believe in God almighty yes. But I am confused as one such as you, who has so obviously cast away his god gifted form and has taken on all the sins of man and demon alike with glee would speak of him with such high praise."

"Oh you must be referring to my crimes and acts after the Holy maiden past." A look of forlorn sadness became etched on his face, the red lines on his armor seeming to dim as his mood darkened, "Once upon a time I too was baffled how such a creature as I could exist. I was raised by men and women of the good book from the moment I came into this world and was taught in all the ways to honor the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit through word and action alike. But despite this I took no joy from the good work. I felt nothing as I listened to prayers, felt nothing as I aided my Father and brothers in helping in our domain, felt nothing at seeing the suffering of those the war had devastated. I was hollow inside, the only moment of Joy I could recall in my first 15 years being when during some mock training I hit one of the squires in just the right spot with just the right amount of force to tear open his neck." he tries to say collected but anger and a familiar madness was becoming more and more evident as he continued to speak.

"As I watched the shock come over the boy's face, as he realized he was in pain ad what that meant, and that he was going to die, I remember feeling a tightness in my trousers, joy spreading throughout my whole system on a level I never even knew was possible, and my arms seemed to move on their own. I watched as my hands entered into the gaping wound and TORE into his flesh. I remember the horror on his face as my hands ripped his soft, succulent flesh to pieces, the feeling of blood spraying across my face and into my mouth as he attempted to scream, his voice muffled by the blood and my hands inside his throat…." a manic grin began to set into his face before Gilles seems to snap out of whatever was happening and he returned to his morse tone.

"At some point I realized that I had regained control of myself some time ago, having still mutilated the boy and even began to rub the blood on my clothing. I panicked and had the hunting dogs tear the body to pieces, having an alchemist grind the bones into to dust. They never even asked me what happened to him, life just seemed to, go on, like it had never happened. And for a while, I thought it had all been a dream, something cooked up by the devil to lure me closer to his realm. But it still haunted me, every night I relived that moment I would wake up feeling joy, honest to God **JOY** , but it would fade soon after."

"I prayed and prayed, asking God why he was testing me like this, why he had refused to allow me to feel all the things I knew all others could feel but not myself. I began to grow angry, bitter. I hated him, I hated his word, I hated his righteousness, I hated what everything about him. **WHY DID I DESERVE TO BE LIKE THIS!? WHY DID I HAVE TO BORN A MONSTER, UNABLE TO FEEL LOVE AND JOY LIKE OTHERS, FORCED TO FEED ON SIN TO FEEL EVEN FEEL ALIVE!? WHY ME!?** " He screams, slamming his hands into the ground as his shouts shake the earth, fire and brimstone jutting up from the cracks in the pavement as his howling screams could be felt across all of Paris, a bolt of fear striking each of their hearts.

While Sanson recalled he had felt something like this before, though he's unsure as to why he did, he could definitely say even he felt a some fear from the sheer amount of power and rage Gilles was giving off, silently saying a prayer as his Master shook in his metaphorical boots watching this take place.

"Hua-hau-hau…." Gilles breathed in slow and deep, trying to calm his burst of fury, "then I met her, my angel" as he said those words his face seemed to lose all its wrinkles, all its cracks and all it's rage, replaced by an expression of true elation.

"She was nothing but a farm girl, could neither read nor wield a sword, but she had heard the voice of the Angels, telling her to lead us to glory and freedom, to honor and salvation. And by God did she lead."

Gilles stared at the bright sky, tears forming in his eyes, "when I was with her all seemed to be at peace. My heart and soul was set at ease and my urges were satisfied. I was, happy, truly happy. I'm not sure if it was love I felt for my maiden but it did not matter, she was everything to me, and even if the same wasn't true, I was fine with that." as he finishes, his face begins to shift back to his mournful side, "but even still, even if the urges were seemingly satisfied, they were not gone, asking for more and more. I seemed to calm them by killing on the battlefield, but they didn't want death I realized, they wanted suffering, they wanted debauchery, they wanted pain and agony. Something I was unwilling to give. And it tore me apart."

At this point it seems he's forgotten Sanson's existence, merely reliving the events to himself out loud, not even looking in his direction. His master gives him his orders, and slowly but surely, Sanson begins enacts the final part of their plan.

"I asked the Maiden what was wrong with me, why God had made sin so good to feel and why I was drawn to it, though I admit was too ashamed to list the true length of my depravities. But like always, her words seemed to answer my every desire, 'God has a role for all of us, as he has for his angels and every other life in this world. You were made exactly as God wished you to be, and he must have a reason he gave you your desire for sin. As long as you remain as you are, you do God's work'. It was then that I realized my purpose in God's great plan."

He straightens out from his former slouched posture and throws his hands up into the air, "Gille de Rais was not made to be a Saint but a Monster. If it was as he wished of me, then what had I or anyone else of being anything less. I continued to follow my maiden into battle until her death then, freed of my duties to be her perfect knight, I slaughtered, butchered and raped my way through hundreds of the innocent. It was the greatest and worst time in my life; I had purpose, I had joy, yet with everyday I felt more and more of my soul torn away, the fragments of my morality tearing myself to pieces for the horror I would commit and my joy at enacting them. By the time those greedy bastards put me on trial for heresy as a way to steal my lands and wealth I wasn't sure who was more happy to see that noose, my executioner or myself. When I reached Hell I knew I was home and welcomed the pain and suffering as only fitting a Monster of God like myself." " **Fufufuhahahahaha!Ahhahahahahaha!** " he throws his head back and begins to laugh like a madman, his collected demeanor was finally falling apart, and no amount of control seems to be holding him back.

"Now, let me show you what I learned in-" his mad tirade was cut short as he turned around to look at his prey, only instead to see nothing but darkness, and suddenly his eyes were gone, gaping bullet wounds from the point-blank guns Sanson had all but shoved into the Demon's face.

"Even to beings like us, there is a limit to how much we can disregard normal weaponry." Sanson calmly says as he walked away from the screaming demon, his claws lashing out all around him in a frenzy of pain and shock.

Sanson tossed away the two pistols he had "borrowed" from the french officers, flinching slightly from his wounded patched shoulder, and picked up his Sword of Justice, mana beginning to build around himself as he closed his eyes in concentration.

" _ **Executing the sentence.** "_ as he spoke a ghostly platform began to form in the square, a gigantic contraption taking form _._

He opens his eyes, seeing his target, The Monster of Brittany, it's eyes beginning to reform, staring back at him, it's eyes full of hate and malice meeting those filled with a satisfied determination, _" **La Mort Espoir!** "_

With those final words, from the quickly forming contraption on the platform, thousands of dark hand like tendrils grabbed the Monster and after only a fraction of a second of resisting, retch him from the ground, pulling him closer and closer to the soon to be finished machine.

The Hands force him into a kneeling position, his hands clamped to locks at his side, his head trapped in a lock as Sanson is suddenly above him, wielding not a sword in his hand but the bottom part of a long rope. Looking up to see where the rope came from The Demon's eyes widened as he saw a blade, seemingly dripping with curses and dark energy, hanging just above his his neck, ready to fall at it's wielder's pull.

He sees the look in Sanson's eyes and he knows what's about to be done. Some part of him wants to to try and fight, to break his chains and tear this executioner to pieces. But another part of him, the part that cheered as the noose was first tied around his neck during his first life stops him. 'This is his fate as a monster' it said and Gille's knew he could not, would not resist. God made Monsters like him to test his children. They made heroes like this boy to stop him. It is only right that it is his turn to go.

In the second it takes for his Executioner to pull on the rope and the blade to end it's fall, Gillies swears he hears triumphant music, looking up and freezing at the sight before him.

There, at the pillar like monument he sees a young maiden, clad in the armor of a knight, her blonde hair flowing around her face as the sun shines behind her, illuminating her like the angels she spoke of. She reaches a hand out towards him, an accepting smile on her face as she mouths his name.

His soul comes to a stop, even the sinful monster within him pausing in it's death throws to pause and gaze her as he feels tears flow down his face, a smile untainted by sin crawling onto his face.

"I'm back Jeanne, the day was saved again."

And with this final words La mort's blade finally finishes severing his neck, a pure smile on his face as his head falls to the earth, a small wisp flying unseen from the freshly severed neck into a pocket in the Executioner's pocket, a small card glowing bright.

Inside the white void of his mind, Robert is jumping for joy, tears of excitement flowing from his eyes as the fear finally leaves him, leaving only relief. If one was listening to to words jumping out of his mouth, you could piece together, "Thank god for evil monologues."

So excited is he, that he doesn't even notice when a new door begins to form inside the white room. Made of rusted red iron, with spikes jutting out over the ends, with a single simple cross nailed to the center, the door seems to give off a dark but not harmful presence, seeming to have always been there even though just a minute earlier none knew it was even possible to form.

* * *

Despite the euphoria threatening to over take them, it doesn't take long for for both Robert and Sanson to realize that even in their target is dead, they still have a massive problem.

They just had a fight with an ancient demonically enhanced serial killer in the middle of Paris and there wasn't a chance in the world that the entirety of the local army hadn't gathered around their position, ready to blow them to kingdom come if they felt they needed to. Unwilling and unprepared to fight through an entire army, both Sanson and his master decided that it was time to disappear from France as fast as possible.

Picking up his sword, Sanson notes Gille's demonic form disintegrate, his body all but a pile of ashes within seconds of his death. This doesn't matter much right now though, as Sanson leaps from his platform, the whole construct fading into mana as his Noble Phantasm returns to it's astral state.

As soon as he landed, he uses every bit of his C rank Agility to dash across the square, running past a group of dazed officers into the Seine, his body making a small (splash) as it hits the water.

A few seconds later, shaken from their mysterious daze, the officers look behind them, seeming to watch some unseen figure and begin to bark into their communications devices, relaying reports that the suspect was heading down the Pont de Concorde and moving fast.

* * *

On the top of a rooftop nearby, a beautiful redheaded woman turns to her 'partner' and snarks, "There, now that the mortals are on a wild goose chase. Did you do your job?"

Behind her is a fairly plain looking man equipped with some glasses and using a bulky piece of technology, "all airwaves have been shut down, no sensitive information is going to leave this city" he raises his hand to his head trying to ease his headache, "we're going to pull a lot of string to make everyone forget about all of this." he stops massaging his temple and looks up towards his 'partner', "any clue what that thing was?"

The woman's face scrunches in discomfort as it seems to pain her to say her next words, "I've got nothing. Absolutely nothing"

The man seems genuinely shocked at that, opening his mouth to say something, before catching her eye and figuring now was not the time. "I'm going to make a call" he quickly announces before heading off.

The Woman stares down at the river, her eyes tracking a lone figure escaping unseen, "Will you be the one?" she whispers to herself as a look of almost longing appears in her eyes, only to return to their usual stony expression once her 'partner' returns.

"We're being split up. You're following the interloper, I'm heading to Hungary, Father's orders." he states his words short and precise, not an inch of emotion in his words.

The woman smirks, "Well, I suppose I can take a few weeks away, I just hope you can deal with the heartache of not having to see me in such a long time" she mockingly retorts.

The man flashes a fake smile and replies, "I hope you die in a fire." walking down a flight of stairs, "Burn in hell Witch!"

The woman merely lets out a light chuckle before launching herself to another rooftop, her ethereal grace unseen by all those below.

* * *

Close to half a mile west down the river, Sanson finally emerges from the water, gasping for air as he pulls himself up along a dock.

Covered head to toe in water, the tired assassin began to move himself along to a nearby container, climbing to the top to see it was covered with several boxes, making sure to make sure his position could not be seen or easily reached.

Setting himself into a semi-comfortable position, Sanson muses that his role is over and soon his whole body begins to glow, his whole form returning in shape to his Master, Robert Caito.

Finally back in his own body, Robert has about a second to feel the pain, tiredness and general wear and tear of his body before he crumbles to the ground, unconscious.

As his mind returns to the world of dreams, Robert doesn't feel the container he in be picked off the ground and moved to a nearby truck, on route to the nearby shipping lanes.

A simple Dock Worker approaches the container, looks over his list and places a label on the side.

"For: Newcastle, Ireland"

* * *

Servant Assassin: Charles-Henri Sanson

Strength: D

Endurance: D

Agility: C

Mana: D

Luck: A

N.P.: A

Skills:

Presence Concealment(Passive) Rank D: Although he is in the Assassin class, the act of assassination is near impossible for Sanson.

Executioner Rank A++: Increases damage towards those of the Evil alignment. Also, a Servant will also become a target if his/her actions are regarded as evil. Severing evil by means of evil; the ultimate judgement act.

Medial Techniques Rank A: Modern medicine that surpasses the medical technology of those times (in which transmission proliferated) by a few degrees. Still, this Skill does not make a comparison by modern standards, instead determining by the standards of the age in which the Servant lived.

Human Anatomy Study Rank B: Sanson did not neglect researching on where he could hurt the human body without killing, without leaving prognostic symptoms. Putting it in another way, it means he understands where it is okay to injure.

Noble Phantasm Rank A: La Mort Espoir(Death is Hope For Tomorrow): The embodiment of the true execution tool, the guillotine. The likelihood of death is decided not by powers of resistance against curses or good fortune, but by whatever is possible to defeat fate with a strong heart. It is a so-called Mental Interference-type Noble Phantasm. Heroes with anecdotes of being executed rather than dying in battle undergo a disadvantageous check.

The guillotine manifests when the True Name is invoked within mid-range. One second later, the guillotine will fall. Here, the judgement is made. If the target fails the check, the guillotine falls without change and one is decapitated.

Note: Charles-Henri Sanson usually maintains a neutral stance towards his Master. Since the high praises regarding his skills for killing are, as expected, included among the reasons for his summoning, his feelings are somewhat complicated. While he doesn't view himself as "good person", he has very strong beliefs about justice and a master who can understand and accommodate to his feelings can always rely on his support.

* * *

 **Wowzers that was my longest chapter yet.**

 **I'm honestly surprised I was able to get this much done. I guess all that music was good for something. Maybe by the next chapter I'll have moved on to Fate/Extra's sound track.**

 **Also yes, the servant stats from above are taken from the Official TYPE-MOON Wiki.**

 **Now for some answers to reviews from the last chapter:**

 **ByzantineAlter: You'll just have to wait and see**

 **hnh058513: That there is, a true renaissance man of life and death he was.**

 **davycrockett100: thanks**

 **piddle: right on the money piddle**

 **sonic: I'm quite glad you did**

 **World Traveler: As you can see, The Exorcists here are a bit… quirky. As for Hektor(yes that is how it's spelled), well, sorry, the 'old man' is not the unnamed servant. Never had that much of a bond to that guy, I don't hate him or anything, but If I don't feel much of a connection to the character, I just can't make myself write about them, or at least enough to flesh them out properly.**

 **king gilgamesh: Sorry that I offended you my liege, but he wasn't a heroic spirit, he merely a being similar in nature to a heroic spirit. As someone from outside this universe Sanson was merely trying to attribute the weird but familiar feeling Gilles was giving off to something he did know. Gilles was merely a powerful evil spirit possessing and warping the devil's body, using him as a host to contain/augment his power.**

 **PasiveNox: Nothing to be sorry for Nox, helpful criticism is always wanted. Was just being a bit cheeky before.**

 **Padparadscha Blue: I'm glad you favorited and followed this but sorry, this is Modern DxD france. This is not Fate grand order, Im taking inspiration from Fate in General than any one series.**

 **Thanks for reading and hope I hope you enjoyed. I will be trying to get the next chapter out sooner.**

 **This has been rc48177, out**

 **P.s: Happy V** **alentines day**

 **Enjoy your anime waifus and husbandos**


	6. Chapter 6: Draw Lowball Part 1

**Over a hundred Favorites… wow. Honestly I never expected to get even close to that number, let allow surpass it. Massive thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited and reviewed this story, it really does mean a lot to me.**

 **After this Chapter I may have to be going quiet for a few weeks, life is taking a real hit on me right now and things aren't exactly going well. All I can do now is follow The Count's Advice, "** **Attendre, Espérer: Wait, and Hope" (WHY DO YOU HATE ME GACHA! I JUST WANT MY SUPER HIGH SCHOOL LEVEL HEROIC SPIRIT!... I'm seriusly considering whaling for him... I hate myself so much)**

 **Now even though this is normally where I would post any recommendations, I find that there's just too many good stories to recommend to post them up here, so from now on, all my story recommendations will be at the end, below the review responses.**

 **This chapter was beta'd by ByzantineAlter. Check him out, nice dude.**

"Normal speech"

'Internal Dialogue, also known as talking in your head'

 **"Words with Power in them"**

 _"Saying a Spell"_

"Overlapping voices"

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/stay Night, Fate Grand Order or High School DxD, Just the Original concepts and plot in this story.**

 **This Crossover is a completely AU.**

 **The Cover Picture is done by DarkHunter8506 from DeviantArt who has kindly allowed me to use this as my cover.**

 **This is my first fic, so please tell what you think, I appreciate every review and would love to know your options.**

 **Now onto the story**

 **A Winning Hand: Draw Lowball (Part 1)**

* * *

Inside the secret headquarters of an Organization that, while relatively unknown and commonly dismissed as either a myth or consequential, shall shape the world in ways most, including themselves, would never have imagined.

Here is a group of battle hardened killers, psychopaths and megalomaniacs all dedicated to a goal, a dream, that would most probably end with a death toll of possibly millions.

Fear them, for their power is great and would cause even gods to tremble!

"yyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwnnnnnnn" mews a young woman as she rolls around, turning her bed into a mess of blankets, pillows and stuffed animals as her mind begins to leave her little dream realm after a long night's rest.

As she rubs her eyes to rid herself of the sleep in her eyes, she looks around her bedroom, though it would be more appropriate to call this place a bunker than anything else.

Underneath a layer of bright paint and posters of semi-clothed bishonen lay inches of hard steel, a network of runes weaving throughout the entire complex to prevent any outside detection, allowing it's occupant much needed freedom with their true strength.

Before her mind and body can naturally adjust however, a loud (BOOM) emanates from the door, shocking the girl and making her tumble back into her sheets, her eyes wide open in surprise.

(Boom)(Boom)(Boom)goes her door as a powerful arm slammed down over and over onto slowly bending metal. "WAKE UP JEANNE! TRAINING TIME IS IN 5 MINUTES AND I SWEAR IF YOU'RE STILL SLEEPING IN THERE I'M GOING TO-" the tirade was derailed as the door finally gives into the pressure and giant man's fist slams through the inches of enforced metal, a sicking (RIP) echoing through the halls.

For a while there is no sound, no movement, nothing.

The Giant's hand, still stuck in the door, slowly slides out, revealing through the massive hole a massive two meter tall man built like brick shithouse, his face contorted into an embarrassed cringe.

The girl tilts her head slightly to the side, needing only brief moment needed to recognize the face of her fellow 'Hero' even in her shocked and groggy state.

"Oh, hey Herc-kun, what's up?" asks the blond girl with a large smile on her face as she leaps from her bed, walking to the ruined door.

The Giant backs up, confusion mixed with a slimmer of fear evident on his face as he tries to figure out the reason behind his comrade's unusually positive mood.

"... you aren't mad that I broke your door?" the giant ponders as the girl walk to the door, grasping the handle and pushing… only for the entire thing to collapse to the ground, a loud (WHAM) reverberating across the halls.

Both look to the ground, the girl's smile threatening to shift into a frown and the giant cringing once again in embarrassment over his reckless use of his strength. The girl however decides to close her eyes, takes a deep breath, and relax, allowing her face to return to a true smile, looking up to her giant companion.

"Oh, I'm very mad. But I had a really weird dream last night and right now I feel like a million bucks, so I don't really feel like ruining what I have now." says the girl with pep as she turns around to her room, the man behind her losing his embarrassment as a questions slips out of his mouth.

"Uhm, weird how? Weird like 'A Prophecy/message from god' or weird like those 'Siegfried and Cao Cao makeout sessions you sa-" was all he could ask before he received a very blunt message to shut up, a fluffy pillow to the face.

"No you moron! UGH! WHY DID I EVEN TELL YOU ABOUT THAT. GRRRRRHHHH!" explains the girl as she shuffles through her closet, her cheeks red as she hopes no one was nearby to hear that little dark secret of hers.

Once her embarrassment fades away though, she decides nonetheless to answer the question, "... I was meeting someone I hadn't seen in a long time. I can't remember who, but I do know we were good friends, though we left on sad terms. He was in a bad place, and I couldn't help him. But when I saw him again, all he did was thank me and cry. Honestly, he was such a big cry baby." she says as almost unconsciously, tears flow down her cheeks, a deep, unfamiliar sadness welling up in her heart that was so at odds with the smile on her face.

Realizing that at this point he should probably leave to let her deal with her emotions, the giant asks, "Are you okay Jeanne? If you want, we can reschedule?"

The girl turns around, making sure to subtly wipe away her tears before facing him with a smile, "No No, I'll be there don't worry. Just give me a few minutes to clean and dress." she says as she returns to picking out her dress, beginning to hum an unfamiliar but nonetheless catchy tune.

"...See you there." the large man says as he walks away, briefly pondering if he should bring this up to their leader, but deciding that it wasn't anyone's business but hers and walks back to the training yard to try and rid himself of these odd feeling. After all, isn't it much better to just hit people as opposed to worrying about stuff?

* * *

After spending an uncertain amount of time pondering and exploring, Robert Caito had come to the conclusion that his subconscious, for the room he found himself in was the same he had just previously left, only to be thrust back to after only a second or two in the waking world, except this time with to screen to watch, was a sort of twisted and warped version of a Panopticon.

Trapped in the center of a circular prison, being viewed by the outside through a one way screen, not knowing or certain IF he was being watched, but certain that at any time he COULD be watched.

While normally he would find the concept of being permanently watched by unknown entities that he couldn't even visualize, Robert had by this point learned to accept that he had long past any sort of boundaries of what could be considered "Normal", what with the whole, "Having copies of some of history's greatest legends kicking around his mind" thing.

He supposed that at least his room in this sort of semi-holding cell was at least familiar. The center of the room had a couch that seemed to copied straight from his home, right down to the handcrafted quilt blanket that was draped over the side, a small coffee table in front with a few scattered books thrown around, all of them he had read so many times during his lifetime he was sure the only reason they appeared here was due to having long memorized every single word, page and light poc mark they contained.

The familiar setting had helped him calm down after appearing here so suddenly, a comfy seat and good book doing much to pull his mind from his frantic thoughts.

The Room was circular in nature, the white wall completely devoid of any detail, save for three spots where doors stood out from the void. The first two he remembered from his previous time here as mere background details, more focused on the current life-or-death than the surrounding furniture.

The newest door would have looked in place inside a video game dungeon, with wicked spikes and dark, too familiar aura making the thing look an entrance to hell itself. Despite that though, Robert didn't feel any of the danger he had felt previously from this energy, as if despite its malice, it didn't see him as a target, safe from it's wrath, at least for now.

Still, after what had just happened, he felt he needed some time to properly rest before throwing himself back into the fire and decided to merely laze around on his couch and reread "The Lighting Thief" for what must have been the 20'somethingith time.

It certainly is amazing how the human mind can cope with almost anything so long as it is given some minor pleasures, even as their lives crash all around them, their debts keep piling up, their grades slip and they keep forgetting to update their work on a continuous basis, MAKING THEM INTO MASSIVE DISAPPOINTMENTS THAT THEY HAVE TO FACE EVERYDAY IN THE MIRROR, OH GODS JUST END ME NOW, PLEASE i BEG-(Hey! Avenger is about to be released!) OOOOhhhh, Super High School Level Heroic spirit time heh-heh-heh-heh... What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, the story….. Please ignore that slight breakdown….

"Are you sure reading is what you should be doing right now Master?" asks a voice over his shoulder.

Not take his eyes off his pages, Robert adopts a faux pleasant tone, the temperature in the room seeming to drop to a freezing cold, and replies, "Probably not, but after this whole mess, what with me DYING, being transported to another universe, discovering I'm host to Heroic Spirits, DYING, having to fight a Demonic Medieval serial killer, DYING, DID I MENTION THE DYING PART YET?! CAUSE I FUCKING DIED!... I think a small break of normalcy is allowed, isn't it Mr. Sanson?" Behind him, he can practically hear the cringe on Sanson's face, as Mr. Caito merely licks his finger and turns to the next page as the temperature slowly begins to return to it's normal comfortable warm, tension still in the air from his outburst.

* * *

After a few moments of awkward silence, he hears Sanson slowly walking up behind him, feeling his shadow overhead, "Is uhm, is that a heh, what I mean is ahh," there is an awkward pause as Sanson attempts to begin small talk, his voice sounding insecure and worried as he tries to stop stumbling over his own tongue, eventually clearing out his throat and asking in a much more controlled tone, "Is that a good book? I myself have my own library, which after all this time I am sure to have read through at least each volume, textbook and novel at least a dozen times, and any new material would be a great gift. If that uhm, is okay with you, Master." his voice full of earnest care, making Robert feel like the man was looking at him like his old puppy, desperately wanting affection and notice, but too scared to actually look him in the eye to do so, afraid that it would be hit for merely trying to please its master.

Closing his book, making sure to mark the page, Robert lets out a sigh and turns to the Servant, handing him the novel, surprise evident on Sanson's usually near stoic expression at the sudden turnaround in attitude. "Take it, I've read it enough for now. Now get that look off your face Sanson, I'm not mad at you or anything, I'm just stressed as hell and want a little time to let all of this actually sink in instead of being getting thrown around from one piece of insanity to the next without break. Everyone needs a little break." Robert states, the full depths of his tiredness sinking into his words as his shoulders sag and he seems to almost sink into the cushions.

Sanson looks at the book for a few moments before going to some form of decision, walking around the edge of the couch until he was face to face with his master.

The two stare at each other for a few moments, a whole dialogue being exchanged without a single word said, before Robert sighs and move over a little, patting the spot next to him. Sanson sits himself down in a much more dignified manner, making sure to keep his posture respectable even as his fellow couchmate all but sinks into the soft fabric.

As Sanson opens up to the first page of his new novel, Robert grabs another book from the coffee table, a little history book called "Horrible Histories: Cut-throat Celts", and begins to start reading again. While the two don't say anything for what felt like hours, the atmosphere was quite comfortable, both men merely allowing some form of comfortable normalcy to come into to their lives, small smiles on both their faces as the last of the tension in the air dissipated, allowing the two enjoy themselves in what was undoubtedly a calm in the storm, all worries pushed to the side, if only for a while.

* * *

Robert's peace was broken as a tingling on the back of his neck stirs him from his reading, placing his book on the table and rubbing the back of his next.

Sanson notices this and says, his eyes still glued to the pages of Riordan's bestseller, "Your body is finally starting to wake." turns a page, "if you need me again, don't hesitate to call, though I must warn I probably won't be as much help. This world doesn't seem to run on the same rules mine did. I didn't feel any stronger inside France as I have on any other battleground, as if my legend didn't have an impact on the location, my connection to the location being only enough to help you call out to me, but nothing beyond that." Sanson's stern expression turns sour, "I don't think my legend here is the same as in my own own world, the Sanson of this world and I have different legacies(*1). The same might apply to the other servants waiting to be called, so be wary of that Master"

Robert, who had actually forgotten that Servants were supposed to gain power from being near their point of origin, didn't feel all that much worry from the statement, seeing as the chance of having a Servant active at the same time as being within their point of origin was slim at best. He did however take note of how Sanson mentioned he was able to be summoned due to the location though.

"A strong bond between the Summoner, the location and situation is needed to bring out the other servants then?" he asked, already beginning to feel the pull back to the waking world.

Sanson merely nodded, still absorbed into his new book, "They want to see if you're worthy of their power. Or in some of their cases, they're just acting like children and want to be called forth at, 'the perfect moment to shine like the sun', whatever she meant by that."

A small smile coming to his face as he tried to imagine which figure that line could have come from, their was quite a list, Robert quickly asks, "I'm guessing they don't want you 'spoiling' the surprise with their names?"

"You would be correct, even the less than dramatic ones wish to see what you're made of without any prior knowledge to sway your actions." Sanson says, allowing a small smile to grace his lips, "Even if I may not see eye to eye with each of my fellow servants, I wish you the best of luck in showing them all why I choose you as a worthy master, for all of us."

And with those final dramatic words, Sanson looked up to see his master was gone, a screen suddenly appearing on the wall in front of the couch, a bright light shining as his master began to wake.

"Dieu soit avec toi" Sanson whispered, as the sound of two doors opening up behind him choice through the halls. "Take a seat, it's about to start."

"Heh, with how this kid's trip is turning out, I wouldn't be surprised if his luck was either A ranked or E ranked, it's hard to tell the difference sometimes." a smarmy voice yelled as it's owner leaped into the air, landing perfectly on one of the unoccupied couch cushions, throwing his feet up and onto the the coffee table, making himself right at home in his, maybe, master's personal space.

"I may not fully understand all of this, but isn't it rude to view everything our young master does? I doubt even god watches us in the privy, or worse yet, the bedroom. " a more 'gentlemanly' voice spoke, the sound of iron slamming against iron with every footstep as the servant made his way to the couch, looking awkwardly at the executioner as the only remaining spot was between him and the, as this servant thought him, "loud and braggart heathen".

Sanson looked up from his book to the servant, merely nodding his head to his empty side before saying, "There are no hard feelings between us now. I carried out your sentence properly, and you serve the man I pledged myself to. If you abide by the peace, so will I." he says in an even stoic tone, everyone in the room knowing there was more emotion buried underneath but none were willing to bring it up, the armored servant accepting the olive branch and choosing to sit in silence as a clearer picture began to show.

"Oh don't worry about it 'Mr. Knight in charcoal armor', we'll just skip that part of the show. I doubt even Berserker loves impaling things THAT much. Me though, Well, if I like the kid, maybe I'll give him some pointers." the brash man says before Sanson lets out a strong "SSSHHHH', like a disciplinarian at a elementary, school, both servants merely sending a quick glare at each other before quitting down for 'the show to start'.

* * *

As light washed over Robert Caito's eyes, conciseness finally returning after a long and necessary sleep, the first thing Robert noticed was not his aching back from the awkward position he slept in, it was not the lack of feeling in his is legs due to poor blood circulation, nor the aching muscles from the strain they were put under to reach the state of exhaustion that allowed him to pass out for over 24 hours. No, the first thing Robert noticed when he finally woke up, was a complete lack of absolutely ANYTHING residing inside his stomach, and the hunger that comes with that.

(GROWL!) Robert winches in pain as his hands rush to his aching stomach, one being forced to try and help lift himself off the ground to get something, ANYTHING into his stomach to stop the pain.

It took a while, making sure not to be loud enough to be heard by any passersby, but after a little bit Robert was able to climb his way out of his container, sneaking by a worker talking on his phone, and onto what turned out to be the edge of a large Ship, land no more than ¼ of a mile away.

'Well…. I guess I'm swimming," and with no thought or hesitation, (hunger sure does crazy things to people doesn't it?), Robert leaped off the side of the boat, diving 10ft into the cold ocean.

And it was as Robert hit the water, feeling the rush of Cold and rushing currents, it wasn't the very real possibility of drowning due to his rusty swimming skills being put to the test in such dangerous conditions that occupied his mind, it was that his jacket was going to be ruined by all the salt water…. Let that say something of this boy's sensibilities.

* * *

After quite a while swimming(ie; floundering around trying not to drown), Robert was able to reach a small beach head, crawling up past the waves, before his body gave up from exhaustion, hunger and all other sorts of medical issues he couldn't just ignore.

As he lay there, possibly dying for the second time, All Robert could think was, 'If I die again after all of this because of starvation, I swear I'm gonna find the asshat who made that wand and shove it so far up his-'

Thankfully, you are saved the misfortune of having to hear what exactly Robert planned to do with that magic glitter stick by a chance encounter straight out of literally almost every story, a chance encounter that saves our hero(s?).

Just nearby, merely staring out into the sea seeming to be looking for any meaning in his life, another boy named Rory Dugan, who, if described in short detail, was a plucky young man with more heart than brains, with a big dream, looking to better himself and show his peers, his rival and his father that he could be the best there ever was, which to be honest, is the literal definition of a Shonen Protagonist.

Anyway, as the plucky young do-gooder that he is, the young man couldn't just do nothing as he saw someone literally wash ashore, rushing across the beach at breakneck speed to grab him and rush him back to his home.

Robert himself was unaware of his rescue because as Rory was "Saving" him, he dragged him over a particularly hard rock, knocking the poor boy out… again.

And as he rushed, once again, back to that little couch in his mind, only one servant of the three watchers was perspective enough to book it the second he saw his host was being dragged, his door closing behind him just as Robert's form materialized back on the couch.

* * *

"I swear, one of my servants must have E-Rank luck so bad that its been rubbing off on me" Robert grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head, the sensation of having his head bashed against a rock still very fresh in his nerves.

"Hmm, well, A bad luck magnet was just here. Maybe it would be for the best if he took a break from being in the center of your mind for a while, if only to spare his container the trouble it brings." Sanson said, the smallest of smug grins on his face as he took pleasure from the mocking of his fellow servant.

"Heh, well I guess that means it must have been a lancer, what with their whole seeming destiny of suffering thing they have going on." Robert joked as he turned to his side and finally noticed the Giant Demonic Knight that had been slightly sitting next to him since he appeared.

….

….

After a few minutes of awkward staring, Robert merely stretched out his hand to the being, his face as unmoving as steel as he stared into the eyes of a man that not 2 days ago had tried to kill both him and his servant,

"Robert Caito"

The former noble stared at the open hand for a little while, before gripping the much smaller hand, swallowing the Human's appendage in his large hands, gripping tightly enough to show his own resolve, while also keeping enough control to not turn the smaller of the two into red and bloody mush.

"... Servant Berserker, Gille de Rais, at your service. Master."

There is a flash of surprise and confusion on Caito's face before it's quickly covered by his steely persona, "I'm guessing you're the Gilles we fought in Paris? If so, how are you within the servant summoning system?" Caito demanded.

"That would be correct Master. Even though I know I was being drawn back to Hell, I feel like at the same time I appeared here."

Confusion still evident in their Master, Sanson decided to voice his own option. 'It seems the Servant Cards have been designed to capture echos of Heroic Spirits. While your pack already contains many servants from the Throne itself, it seems entities like him are close enough to a Heroic Spirit that when in their purest form, the cards copy the loose essence and shape it into Heroic spirit of this world(*2). While my memories are fuzzy at best, I am sure I once met my world's Gilles de Rais and can tell that these two are definitely not the same person, their origins vastly different. One was A Saint turned Sinner, the other A Sinner who merely wore the veil of a Saint." the odd Berserker slightly winced at that line.

Robert meanwhile was running all of these ideas through his head, as thousands upon thousands of possibilities raced across his mind, before shaking himself and facing his new Servant, 'Will you let me use your power, work with me to accomplish my goals?"

The Demonic being looked at him and sighed, weary resignation in his voice. "You defeated me, the evil monster, and so it is your decision what to do with me. Just be warned, once the oath has been said, you will be stuck was a cruel and ruthless Demon for a Servant. If you accept the consequences, then yes, I accept my role."

As the two beings stared at each other, words began to appear in Robert's mind, coming out of his mouth without any real control.

" _ **Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill). Shut (fill).**_

 _ **Repeat every five times.**_

 _ **Simply, shatter once filled.**_

―――― _ **I announce.**_

 _ **Your self is under me, my fate(doom) is in your sword.**_

 _ **In accordance with the approach of the Servant System, if you abide by this feeling, this reason, then answer.**_

 _ **Here is my oath.**_

 _ **I am the one who becomes all the good of the world of the dead, I am the one who lays out all the evil of the world of the dead.**_

 _ **Yet, thou serves with thine eyes clouded in chaos.**_

 _ **Thou, bound in the cage of madness. I am he who command those chains.**_

 _ **You, seven heavens clad in three words of power, serve by the contract undisputed, O keeper of the balance ―――**_ _ **！**_ "(*3)

A flash of power emanates from the young Master, pushing itself onto Gilles, as he begins to thrash around, the power from before once again filling his body.

Without anyone noticing, Sanson had already left his seat and had grabbed Robert, pulling him away from the Demonic creature.

As the the thrashing stopped, Gilles, no, Servant Berserker came to an almost mechanical stop, his eyes glassy and empty, but an unstable madness was held just behind them, ready to break and shatter all in it's wake. To the side, the Spiked, Gothic door opens, Berserker walking towards it, not sparing either of them a look before he enters his cage, the door slamming shut behind him, the sound of a lock being clamped down echoing across the room.

There's no sound for a few seconds, not a breath was taken, nor a eye blinked... then, a very familiar sound is heard from behind the door…. laughter.

" **Fufufuhahahahaha!Ahhahahahahaha!** " this monstrous laughter is joined with the sounds of scrapping metal, screams of pain and other unspeakable horrors, neither Sanson nor his Master daring to move, paralyzed just from the rare intent emanating from that room, both very thankful of the sealing lock keeping that beast inside.

* * *

In a never-ending forest, a smarmy man continues to train himself, letting out a chuckle of amusement over his master's unique circumstances.

* * *

On a never ending shore, a powerful being shudders slightly at the sheer, 'not fun' the new servants presence breaths across their sunny world.

* * *

Inside a dark cave, a fellow monster turns their head in recognition to their new companion.

* * *

In a dark Palace, a dark presence sneers it's nose at the sheer undisciplined madness the new arrival shows, 'Amateurs'

* * *

In a literal hole in the ground, an insignificant being laughs at the joy it feels, the raw hate making him laugh all the more.

* * *

In a burning hellscape, a fellow demon smiles at the idea of a being similar in nature joining forces.

* * *

Inside a lightless room, a lost soul doesn't even move an inch as more darkness seeps into his little world.

* * *

The other beings, hidden so deep in the system, don't even feel anything as the new servant's energy never reaches them, with both being so absorbed into their own matters they wouldn't even notice anyway.

* * *

 **…...-...?**

* * *

"... I believe you should allow this new Berserker time to… adjust itself to its new living environment before calling on him." Sanson wisely recommends, his face in it's normal mask of stoicism even as the hand gripping his sword shakes and turns even more white underneath his gloves.

"Sounds smart. Yep. Totally, I'm gonna leave now. How do I do that?" his master quickly agrees, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he taps his foot so fast into the floor that he looked like a dog getting its ear scratched.

"I'm sorry to say sir but I have no idea. This is Your mind, you have all the power here, maybe you can, send yourself back?" Sanson replied, the fear from before beginning to ease out of him.

Robert froze at those words, not seeming to move, not even breath as he absorbed his words. He seems to calm down a little, breathing deeply in, and out, in, and out.

And once it seems he has finally gathered himself together, he begins to slam his fist into his cheek repeatedly, mumbling "StupidStupidStupidStupidStupidI'msoFuckingStupidStupidStupidStupidStupid-" over and over again, Sanson staring on in utter bafflement, wondering just how distorted a master he must have.

After a… 'suitable' amount of time degrading himself with both physical and verbal abuse, Robert seems to finally pull himself together, and begins to stare blankly at the wall, his body going almost perfectly still as he shuts out the world around him to focus one ONE goal.

For a while, nothing happens. Sanson at first chooses to wait. But after what must have been five minutes of nothing, the servant decides its been enough and reaches out to his master, about to shake him back to reality.

But right before his hand could touch him, in the millisecond it takes to blink, he disappears, the screen once again beginning to come to life, all the while Sanson stares blankly at the empty spot, a unique feeling of frustration washing over him.

Deciding to calm himself, he retreats to the couch, picking up one of the books his master liked to read so often from the table. As he reads the title and views the cover, his face begins to twitch, "Horrible Histories: Special: France", the cover being a picture of a noble man about to enter the guillotine, the crowd jeering for blood.

A second later, the sound of a book impacting a wall echoes across the room, the only one inside refusing to acknowledge its existence.

* * *

 **Well, Finally got that done. Not much to say here, I wanted this to be a bit of a breather after last chapter's non-stop fighting, and my mind been going weird places, as the emphasis on the comedy probably shows.**

Anyway

For those little numbers I left those were little notes:

 ***1: The Nasuverse version of Charles Henri-Sanson is a Composite character of both the real life version of him and his son, with it being his son who was Marie Antoinette's Executioner, but since it made sense for drama, Nasu gave his actions to the father. In this universe, it was his son who did the deed, so Sanson's legend doesn't match this universe's, making it so if a Nasuverse servant legend doesn't fully match their DxD universe counterparts, whether due to historical inaccuracies in their portrayals or DxD taking liberties with the legends, the bonus they revise will either be heavily diminished or become non-existent. The reason being some servant get absolutely stupid amounts of power for being in their homeland which would destroy most tension. That's why there were no Japanese servants in the Original Fate/stay night, and no Fake/Assassin and EMIYA doesn't count due to the wonkiness of their origins, one being a Fake Servant and the other being a Future Counterguardian, so that no servant could go all Vlad III from Apocrypha and need an O.P. Demi-god to take them on in a fair fight.**

 ***2: The Kaleidoscope's experiments are never as simple as they first appear, and they rarely if ever are for anyone's good except his. Why would would an immortal dimension hopper do such a thing? In the end, the Master of Second Magic is still a magus, and we know how they operate. The more you think of it, the less hope one has for a 'happy ending'.**

 ***3: This a bit tweaked from the original summoning ritual, but seeing as how this is Not a holy grail war and this was more about binding a servant than summoning it, I decided to word it to sound a little different.**

Reviews:

 **BlitzNeutral69: I try**

 **Hashirama 1710: Thanks for the compliment**

 **Lazymanjones96: Thank you, I will try to keep you coming back**

 **superpierce: Yeah, I didn't really explain a lot of the mechanics of the summoning system last chapter, due to the action heavy nature of the whole thing, this one is a lot more heavy on the explanation.**

 **ByzantineAlter: you'll see ;)**

 **The Indominator: you're a bit of a cheeky bastard ain't you. Heh, well come on, as I've said time and time again, Reviews just give me the motivation to keep going. And by Chichigami was your review Motive-fucking-ation! Ha! I'll be looking forward to how your story goes.**

 **World Traveler: Yes- and no. There is a limit I set for myself, but I wanted to create some interesting opponents and servant like enemies. If a servant is shown, there's a narrative reason for it, I'm not gonna bring them out and then forget they exist (coughcoughDariuscoughcough)**

 **king gilgamesh: Glad to hear you think so my liege. I serve at my audience's behest.**

 **Mango eater 24: Are we not all a little strange. Thank you for the compliment.**

 **Merlin Pranks101: It would be Cool... and no I'm not going to explain what that means.**

This Chapter's Story Recommendations:

 **revdb's 'Little Insane Gudako': A revamp of his previous story. Take the 'Learning with Manga' master, de-age her 'tills she's like 8-9, make her the child of Shirou and Rin and make her Shirou's servant in the war, with the ability to commandeer friendly servants and summon up her slav-COUGH- I mean, "friends" from Chaldrea. Warning: high levels of WTF and dere-dere moments from Rin.**

 **The Indominator's(Yeah, that guy from the reviews) 'Respect your elders': Our favorite Master Loli gets a super Dinosaur as a Servant…. What more needs to be said?**

 **Ryushinchi's 'Manners Maketh Dragon': Imagine if Issei had been raised by a "Proper Gentleman". Probably dead, but a fun read nonetheless.**

 **Link the hero of light's Stay Night: Grand Order: A Shirou as the FGO master fic, it is competently written, is NOT marred with plagiarism, and has a few fun ideas to play around with so I'm willing to see where it goes.**

 **The Divinity in Our Souls: Real short so far, but I'll be honest, I'm interested to see where this goes, not many P.J. x Nasuverse stuff… that lasts anyway.**

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 **... Huh, are you still here? Well then, How about a little sneak peak of Chapter 7 for being so dedicated?**

* * *

"G _ather round boys and girls, it's story time"_

* * *

 _"...I'd never thought I'd have to come back to this place... was expecting to last at least 4 more lifetimes of fun before work called again."_

* * *

" _Wasn't Halloween like, 4-5 months ago?"_

" _The Season's feelings never stop so long as I'm around"_

* * *

" _Huh, why don't you ever use that thing the proper way?"_

" _Do you know how awkward it is to kick something like that in the middle of a battlefield!?"_

* * *

 _"Wait, if he's, then how... but...?"_

 _"Listen kid, let me give you a bit of advise, from one Hero to another. If Magic is involved, its best just not to think about 'How" it works, and just accept it. Makes things go a hell of a lot smoother."_

* * *

All this and more, next time;

 **On Dragonball-WaitWaitWait, wrong story**

 **...ehe**

 **...**

 **...**

 **….uhm… bye?**


	7. Bonus: The Greatest Story Never Told

"Normal speech"

'Internal Dialogue, also known as talking in your head'

 **"Words with Power in them"**

 _"Saying a Spell"_

"Overlapping voices"

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/stay Night, Fate Grand Order or High School DxD, Just the Original concepts and plot in this story.**

 **This Crossover is a completely AU.**

 **The Cover Picture is done by DarkHunter8506 from DeviantArt who has kindly allowed me to use this as my cover.**

 **This is my first fic, so please tell what you think, I appreciate every review and would love to know your options.**

 **Now onto the story**

 **A Winning Hand: The Greatest Story Never Told:**

* * *

Deep in a lab somewhat removed from the normal limitations of the mind of the Earth, a very old but powerful being tinkers away on a small device, absorbed into this new study.

If one were to be looking at it from afar, like a certain twin-tailed "Average" apprentice was at the moment, pausing in her studies to view what her master was doing now, and whether she should start running to escape the possible blast radius, you would only see a cloud of smoke, flashes of sparks, eldritch portals, unknowable shapes that hurt the brain, and lots and lots of stuffing going flying everywhere.

But despite the Master's best wishes and a liberal use of bending space and time, it seems it was not enough to fully complete what he was trying to do. With a Sudden(Whop), and an explosion of magically charged air that turned the nearby furniture into splinters, the young apprentice having long since left the room by this point having seen that this would not be good, and giving the old man a very rough trimming on his, well, at least in his own opinion, magnificent beard, the experiment, whatever it was, was gone.

For a couple of seconds, the man stood perfectly still, the only sign he was even still "alive" being the quick blinking of his eyes. After a few seconds, and not hearing screams that defied her perceived reality, the young twin-tailed apprentice sauntered back into the room, making sure to avoid stepping in any of the derby or piles of unknown and very possibly dangerous liquids, walking up just behind her master, looking at where his desk used to be before looking up to meet the corner of his eyes.

"Our problem, or someone else's?" she asked in a fashion that one could gather was very practiced at this point.

After a minute of blank staring, magic pooling behind the eyes of the Master as he viewed into realms not know by many mortals, he gives out a quick chuckle, turning around to face his apprentice, all the dust having suddenly not be on his body, his desk back to it's previous state, sans previous experiment, and simply stated, "Not yours at least", walking into an open door that was not there before, the door shutting as he enters in, the room as it was but a few moments before, absent of it's master.

The Young Apprentice merely shrugs her shoulders and picks up her book again, refreshing herself on her studies while her master did…. Whatever he does, honestly, she still was not sure what exactly he did after all this time serving under him.

(Sigh)"I wonder if I should have Emiya make Salmon tonight, we haven't had that for a while. Bought in bulk of course, can't let my precious little gluttonous servant not state her appetite after all. Hunger is the enemy and all that." she says to herself, as the world moves on as normal, which she is more than happy with.

* * *

In some universes, the name, Issei Hyoudou, is recorded into legend, as a brave hero, a fantastic warrior, a great friend, and an eager lover. His name would live for millenia, his bloodline long and varied with the sheer amount of children he would have with his many different lovers, all of whom would try to honor his legacy in their own… unique ways.

Right now though, the only thing that the name, Issei Hyoudou, brings to mind, is the image of a sexual harassment lawsuit just waiting to happen.

In Kuoh Town, Issei Hyoudou was doing what Issei Hyoudou usually does on a weekend with little homework, or honestly on any day regardless of how much homework he had, scouting the urban jungle for that illustrious, deadly, but oh so valuable and precious beast…. Oppai. (Somewhere a nondescript man in his ███ typing on his laptop is groaning as he realizes that he's going to be using that word far more than any man should ever have to…. Well that moron should have thought about that before he wrote a piece of fanfiction based on a raunchy harem battle show/light novel series. Anyway, back to the story)

As this possible guest appearance on how to catch a predator- I mean… (ugh) connoisseur and passionate fan of the subject known as Oppai(By the Root, did He really write this? I thought he had more pride in himself.) walked the streets, keeping his eyes glued not the roads, the cars, the food being sold at 70% off at the cafe or even the news talking about recent terror attacks in Paris, the strange explosion at the Vatican, the disappearances in Hungary or even rising political tensions in Israel. Nope, he had never really cared about things like that anyway; if it didn't affect him or anyone he knew he could just ignore it, after all, when has that line of thinking EVER steered anyone wrong? He on the other hand, had his eyes on the real prize…. Two pairs of bouncy Oppai that is. Specifically, the pair of Oppai attached to the girls known as Murayama and Katase, both members of the School's Kendo club, and both sporting fit bodies, good looks and larger than usual boobs.

He and his comrades in love of the female form(I swear if this where my career is going I should have just joined the army like my uncle suggested and gotten blown to bits, would have been a cleaner and more painless death than this.), Matsuda and Motohama, who the locals unfairly had dubbed them, "The Perverted Trio"(Personally I would have just called you all "Sex Offenders United" but now the boss is telling me to shut and I will… for now), and had been gazing upon the beauties of Kouh for years.

While Matsuda, the blasted lolicon, never could truly appreciate the magnificence that was Oppai, he at least had been very good at supplying high quality photos to look and ogle at in the comfort of his room. But Issei had to admit there was something a simple picture just could not capture; was it the jiggle, the sweat beading down her neck into a boob valley, the jiggle, the way when they breathed they pushed those orbs of fat against her shirt, the jiggle… it was probably the jiggle.

So lost in the view of the jiggle, it was only Issei's highly trained, "Punishment Avoidance" skill that allowed him to sense the coming danger, ie: the two highly trained and very angry Kendo users running at him with their wooden blades drawn, screaming his name. Honestly, even Issei was surprised by how absorbed he was in watching the Oppai, that he didn't even notice they were coming for him.

Bolting to his feet from his semi-hidden position and running like the wind, Issei never even attempted to look back as the anger and vengeance filled voices fell further and further into the distance, only stopping to catch his breath once his house came into view, his body in surprising good shape due to his reimine of "Punishment Avoidance". Satisfied at another fulfilling viewing, he wiped the sweat from his brow, marched into his home, loudly announced his success to his parents, who were crying inside the kitchen, obviously proud of their son's achievements and in no way contemplating the merits of an honorable death to wipe away their son's tainting presence on the family, and walked up the stairs to his bedroom, planning on taking a long rest before he finally began his homework for the weekend.

As his eyes close and he drifts into the realm of dreams, a sudden(Whop), announces the arrival of new presence, this one dark and filled with a power no sane man should have to deal with, who very presence causes the Evaporation of Sanity, and that could shake a man to his very core, warping beyond comprehension. And now, in this room, it had some new, innocent, prey.

* * *

(We're sorry, the Author does not want to be kicked from this site, so if you wish to view this scene in it's full, succulent, Lemony glory, please go to the Archive of Your own where it can be viewed without restrictions)

* * *

"AAAUUUUGGGGHHH!" Issei shouts as he releases all his pent up "vigor", Issei realized he was awake again, his glorious and very confusing dream gone, replaced by his bedroom ceiling and dirty sheets.

Groaning, he pushes himself up, breathing heavily from the powerful dream he was in, wondering how it could feel so real, if that was what Oppai really felt like, and if all that was true, was he-.

He thoughts are cut off as he notices a feeling on his… little Issei, a Large bulge where his sex would usually be, the natural naked feeling now feeling very much off, it was soft and comforting… as well as wet and sticky.

Slowly picking up the covers, he freezes for a second, seeing something he knows should not be down there, before throwing off the blanket, to view the intruder in it's full horror.

It was a tiny, finely crafted white bean plushie, it's front made into a cute face with pink hair with a speck of white, the hair extending into a braid on it's left side, pink eyes with a cute little open mouth, a cute little fang popping out. While on its own, this would be an unusual but not unwelcome surprise…. The fact it was currently sucking his dick was what surprised, frightened, horrified and confused Issei beyond belief.

As if noticing it's presence, the plushie seemed to spit his penis out, it still rock hard from the plushie's work, it's little cloth pupils seeming to stare into his very soul, before in a voice that was oddly adorable and cutesy, yet comply horrifying, pushed into his mind, "You're Gay.".

And then it was gone, not, 'it disappeared", not, "It vanished from sight." It just was there one moment ago… and then just wasn't, not even a mark on the bed where it had once been, the only possible proof it was even there being Issei's massive hard on and his scared and damming memories. Even deep within his soul, the great being of power that had existed for millennia was completely baffled by this event, it's mild amusement at the strangest overshadowed by the foreign fear penetrating(GET IT!... BECAUSE PENIS!) his spirit.

Later Issei would deny the event ever happening, his mind seeming to have shut out every single possible memory of the event, no matter how many times his partner would show him visual snapshots of bring it up.

But now, that being is still out there, not able to found even with the full power of the Kaleidoscope, only the trail of it's mayhem. It could be anywhere, hiding in the shadows, in the trees, flying up in the clouds above, it could even- OH MY GOD! IS THAT AN ASTOLFO BEAN PLUSHIE SELLING FOR ONLY $50!? TAKE ALL OF MY MONEY!

* * *

… **..I'm horrible aren't I?**

 **Happy April fools readers, I hope you enjoyed this customary, "I'm-not-dead-and-still-working-on-part-2-just-don't-lynch-me-for-taking-so-long" present. I wanted to have a little fun today so I pumped this out for laughs and have decided to post this without showing to my usual beta, I want him to enjoy the surprise as well. Also, if you're wonder if this is canon or not…. Yes... if you want it to be.**

 **And yes, this whole chapters basis was on that stupid, "Haunted Astolfo bean plushie that sucks your dick and calls you gay for $50" meme.**

Review TIME!:

 **Hashirama 1710:... Well at least you haven't figured out the other servants yet.**

 **BlitzNeutral69: Thanks and sorry to say, no, but if you want an idea of what I was using when I thought him up, look up, Tzeentch Chosen from warhammer fantasy battles. Also, his stats will be shown the chapter he is either installed or included, right now, he isn't in a very good state.**

 **The Indominator: Thanks for the compliments and well wishes, sorry about taking so long though. And well… it looks like Doggo just got an increase to 80%, cause you were on dah money boy. Also, yeah, people tend to forget that losing everything and being thrust into a world of danger, monsters, magic and beings BEYOND YOUR COMPREHENSION!, can really fuck with people's minds, and I hate it that we rarely see how civilians react to all this shit in these magical worlds, even if there memories are going to get wiped, its still fun to watch their whole world views shatter.**

 **Nemesis Jedi: it certainly is… I was lucky enough to get a gift card for the store for a holiday so I was able to semi-whale(Does it count if its a gift card and mot your own?) and i STILL DIDN'T GET DOGGO! UUURRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH!... Maybe this is karma for drawing 3 arthuroria's+ a Waver in a week…. Probably. And don't worry, there will be more Cu than you ever imagined.**

 **Polarpwnage: The idea was he was trying to calm the woman down and to find out what theses thugs were doing, the last part was more because, well, that's still a guy that grew up admiring heros and waiting to be one, you don't think he'd want to get to at least do One little hero moment? I would and so would a lot of people, it may be cheesy, but it's kind of cool.**

This Chapter's Story Recommendations:

 **Fate: Golden Order: What if Gilgamesh wasn't a complete asshole and instead decided to save the world, in his own, very badass way.**

 **HV-S01: Red Knight Redemption: A fun Shirou/Mordred story set in Medieval Britain.**

 **Grand Order of the Eastern Wonderland: Another fun little piece by The Indominator, I have no clue about anything related to the touhou project, and I still had fun with it.**

 **No Clues for today, check back next time….. Okay I'll give you ONE hint…..**

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 **CHEESE!**


	8. Chapter 7: Draw Lowball Part 2

**...weeeellllll… I'm back…. yaaaayyyy…. Please don't kill me.**

… **yeah, It's been a while. Sorry for being so late. It was quite unprofessional of me(not that this whole thing is in any way professional to begin with but you get my meaning). I've got a lot of physical ailments that have been popping up in my life, and I so I've been dealing with some pretty nasty illnesses which left me in a real shit state both emotionally and physically, so I didn't get much writing done. (also i'm a freaking O.C.D. weirdo who tends to write something, trash it, and then rewrite it again because i hate where it is going. it is NOT good for time management.)**

 **Thankfully I'm more or less recovered and I've come back to the keyboard. And Now with the Fate/Zero Accel Order event starting(Yeah, thats when I first finished my first draft. I take WAY too long editing), I'm really feeling that writing itch.(Besides, I burned through all my quartz trying to nab Jalter in the Counterfeit Heros event… to no avail, of course. I swear, my luck must be synced with Cu's because my luck seems to have dropped to rank E-, I don't even get Sumanai anymore. "Grumble-Grumble-Grumble." I can only hope I can pull Angra Mainyu from the friends points gacha now that I have finished the storyline, been saving those F.P. since I started, I hope 150k is enough for him and Hundred Face.)**

 **Anyway, I'm back from all that real life hubalu that's kept me away, and as you can see, I haven't been completely idle. But before I begin this story, I am proud to announce that this story now has, and DRUMROLL PLEASE!**

 **bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-bum-BUM!**

 **Over 50 reviews…. NOICE! (Well, we passed that last chapter but that was a joke chapter so I did not feel the announcement should be there) It's so awesome that you guys are giving me your feedback. I just love hearing what you guys are thinking about what I made. Whether you like it, hate it or are just plain indifferent to it(though I guess in that circumstance leaving nothing is quite appropriate), I'd love to hear your feedback. After all, how else can you improve without criticism?**

 **Also question; Would you guys prefer smaller chapter at a faster rate or these longer chapters at a slower, but hopely not this slow(I REALLY hate my immune system), production rate? I'm good either way, least now that work seems to be slowing down.**

 **This chapter was partially beta'd by ByzantineAlter. Check him out, nice dude.**

"Normal speech"

'Internal Dialogue, also known as talking in your head'

 **"Words with Power in them"**

 _"Saying a Spell"_

"Overlapping voices"

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fate/stay Night, Fate Grand Order or High School DxD, Just the Original concepts and plot in this story.**

 **This Crossover is a completely AU.**

 **The Cover Picture is done by DarkHunter8506 from DeviantArt who has kindly allowed me to use this as my cover.**

 **This is my first fic, so please tell what you think, I appreciate every review and would love to know your options.**

 **(WARNING: IRISH SLANG AHEAD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)**

 **Now onto the story**

 **A Winning Hand: Draw Lowball (Part 2)**

* * *

"Uuuuuugggghhhh, can someone get the number of that truck, 'cause my head hurts like a motherfucker." our intrepid(or is it imbecilic?) 'hero' moans as he raises his head, awaking once again from his sudden burst of unconscious.

As he tries to shake the grogginess from his body and attempts to rises though, rubbing his eyes to get the sand out, he hears echoes of laughter, one all around him, and one within him, both matching each other perfectly. As he quickly shifts to look around him, he notices a young man lain out on the couch, watching something on a small boxy television, gentle snoring coming from his disheveled sleeping form.

The man looked about or maybe just a little older than him, with red hair, a fresh face and handsome, if slightly unkempt, appearance, looking like the sort of guys he knew back in his college days(Which in the most technical terms, could be considered a lifetime ago) who loved to have fun, be social and scream like morons at 3 in the morning. Also, he smelled like booze, like, a stupid amount of booze, a practical miasma of Alcohol emitting from his frame, if all the bottles lying on the floor were enough of clue as to why that was.

Actually, after taking a deeper sniff, Caito realized it was this whole house that smelled like alcohol. And judging by the Irish flag hanging over the mantelpiece, Caito got the feeling whoever had brought him here was certainly not doing much to dissuade that old belief about the Irish and their drinking habits.

Pulling himself up, Robert cracked his neck with his hands, and placed both feet on the ground, nearly falling back down as the blood rushed down into his legs for the first time in hours, sending a uncomfortable rush down his body. After a few seconds though, it faded, Robert taking a breath and then, Loudly, clearing his throat, he said, "You know, there's something to be said about waking up with a pounding headache in a booze riddled Irishman's home, but I'm too much of a gentleman to say it. Instead, I'm going to ask who the hell are you, why in the name of all that is decent did you drag me here, and….Where, is MY FUCKING JACKET!" yelled the lost and very confused 18-19 year old dimension hopper who was frantically looking around the area desperately looking for his prized piece of leather apparel, as the young, and possibly hungover, man finally seemed to notice he was awake, shocking him out of his tv, and possibly alcoholic, induced stupor and throwing him off of his crusty couch seat onto the hardwood floor.

"AHCK! What the Fackn' hell did you do that for? Was just gettin' to the good part as well, da' lass was certainly worth it, hehehe-ow." mumbled the young redhead, nursing his head as his bloodshot eyes begin to fix on his guest, who was now ransacking his place. Overturning baskets of overflowing laundry and tossing cushions around, desperately looking for something of what had to be vital importance if going by the frantic look on his face.

As the host began to rise from his stupor, Caito's eyes widen in joy as he sees a slip of brown underneath a white sheet. Throwing the loose cloth to the side, he is overjoyed to see his beloved jacket just as he knew it to be, though even more beaten up and weathered than before, no doubt due to his reckless dive into the sea and being hauled from the sandy beaches to this dump. Throwing the thing on, Robert felt the familiar warmth and weight of the jacket on him, some of the tension flowing out of him as some sense of stability and familiarity came back to him.

Turning to meet his…. Captor? Rescuer? To be honest, he wasn't sure which was the appropriate term, he saw that the VERY hungover man(boy?) had more or less pulled himself up off the ground and was clearing the sleep from his bloodshot eyes.

"Oh, you're awake now? You must of had a real Bad Dose(*1) to have been out cold for a Donkey's Year(*2). I saw yah wash up on the shore and in real Hames(*3), so I figured I'd drag yah back to mi Gaff(*4), what with it being free for the week. I mus-" and so he rambled on, spouting phrases and other slang that Robert could not even begin to follow, nor did he particularly care to learn, because once the pressing need to find his comfort blank-I mean-favorite jacket, was satisfied, another pressing need was finally acknowledged…. Hunger and thirst.

Removing himself from the one sided conversation, Robert walked off to what looked to be a small mini-fridge. Popping it open, he pushed through lots of glass bottle until he saw the familiar sight of a regular plastic water bottle, yanking it out and downing it within seconds. He drank it so fast he began to choke at one point as he breathed in some water, so desperate to quench what had to be days of no water.

The sound of choking brought the still unnamed(at least to our protagonist) Irishman out of his monologue, having noticed his guest had wandered off and was rummaging through his fridge.

"Oi! I know you must be shattered(*5) and all, but I don't want yah gettin' ossified(6*) as soon as yah wake up." he said as he moved to close his fridge's door, noticing his guest giving him a dirty and unfriendly look as he wiped away a little water from his mouth.

"I asked you once and I'll ask again. Who are you, where am I, and by god can you speak some proper English? I can barely understand you, what with that thick O'IRISH accent." Robert hostile spits out, his confusion and fear rabidly turning into frustration and anger at having AGAIN been thrown into a foreign land with not a clue on what to do.

The Irishman's eyes lock on and harden to his impromptu house guest, spitting out his own retort, "Ah, an American are we? Shouldn't you be sat on your ass in front of a screen, chomping away at burgers and pleasuring yourself to sound of guns?"

"Shouldn't you be in a Pub, eating potatoes and fucking sheep?"

"You're thinking the Welsh jackass. May the cat eat you and the devil eat the cat."

"You have more dick in your personality than you do in your pants."

"Holy Joe(*7)"

"Pissant"

"Pig."

"Bog-trotter'"

"Gammy(*8) Gombeen(*9)!"

"Inbred Mick"

"Ceann na Caca(*10)"

"Fottuto stronzo(*11)"

And so the insult match continued, the two shooting more and more insults, degrading names and such vile terms that you'd never be able to kiss your mother again if you even knew such words.

After a few minutes of this, the two eventually stopped, each one so riled up that they could blow at any second, their fists clenched and their eyes nearly popping out of their heads in rage.

"...heh...Ha. HehHahahahahahahahahahaha!"

"KekKukhahahahahahahahahahahhahahaha!" before both of them suddenly started laughing themselves into a frenzy, each nearly doubling over as all the tension was drained from the room and replaced by a light, jovial feel.

"HAhahahaha-, oh boy, I have not had a good match like that in years. Where'd you even learn those?" the Irishman said, all the vile previous in his voice gone, now a lighthearted amusement taking its place.

"Keh-, You'd be surprised to learn how nasty a bunch of Italians who grew up in Queens can be once they've maybe just had a bit too much wine and are surrounded by family and good food." Robert laughed as he pulled himself up, a smile across his face as he recalled old memories of a world long left behind.

"'Hm, well, now that all that Shite is out of the way, My name's Rory Dugan, and this here is my house, well, it's my dad's, but since he's out, I'm dah man in charge. What's your's?"

"Mmmh, Robert Caito, at your service. Now if you don't mind, I haven't eaten in days, and right now I could go for something to fill the void that is my stomach." Robert sheepishly let out, as the sound of a growling stomach echoed across the room.

After a little bit of a chuckle, Rory responded, "well what kind of a host would I be if I let yah starve. I've got some Ham in the fridge, it's not much, but better than nothin' I suppose." walking off to fetch it from the proper fridge in the kitchen, walking out of his room into the main hall, Robert following along.

Letting out a little sigh, Robert mumbled to himself, "At least it's not just milk and bread. Fucking allergies."

* * *

Meanwhile, about to 80 miles away, near a lake with a very special island in it, a land marked by a prolific event which hold great significance to one soon to be important individual in particular.

A shadow covered figure walks through the woods, branches snapping against his skin, but he cares not. He has only one goal in mind, one goal which **BURNS** through his very Soul, an obsession that has kept him going for so long, so very long.

A shrieking laughter begins to echo through the forest.

" **Oh-ho-oh! You sure are dedicated aren't you Comhpháirtí? You'd think after a few centuries of doing nothing but pondering and reflecting on your life you'd think maybe you'd have, I don't know, considered maybe, just maybe, You're the asshole?** "

The Figure moved on, a animalistic grunt being the only acknowledgement it had even heard the otherworldly presence.

" **Eheh-He! I mean, don't get me wrong. That whole mess when you finally found her was Hilarious. You were such a Comhpháirtí, yah hadn't even though to bring any ammo with yah when you wanted to kill her. And what does he do, does he rush her and choke her out, push her down beneath the water and go just plain and brutal with your fists. NOPE! He pulls out a piece of Cáis. Cáis I say! And then CHUCKS that thing right at the back of her skull. OH how I wish I could have been there to see it. Brutal, and hilarious, the perfect joke. HEHEHEHE-HAHAH-KAHA!** " The Laughter echoing across land, dogs barking at the night sky and townspeople shivering in fright from the unpleasant energy seeping into the area.

"Mock me all you want, as long as you fulfill your end of the bargain, I care not what you do with me or my reputation. Can you say you are still a man of your word, or have you forgotten that too?" The Figure bites back as he finally reaches the lake, Lough Ree's waters clear and untouched by the malice clinging to the air around the cloaked figure.

The Laughter abruptly stops, the dark merriment seeming to shrivel up and curled into resentment, anger and a deep feeling of loss.

" **... I've learned it's best to make sure you know what you're getting into when you made a deal. I didn't at first, and after that, never again. I'll fulfill my end of the Bargain.** " a road of frost begins to form over the lake, moving slowly but surely towards an island inside, " **You comin'?** "

The figure doesn't reply, merely choosing to walk forward, his footsteps not even making a the slightest impression on the fragile ice as the he edged closer and closer to a place he had wished to return to for as long as he could clearly remember.

When he sets foot on the isle, the ice path turns to steam, fall away into the lake. The Figure grunts as his form too begins to seemingly simmer a bit, "Damn those Men of Christ, moving into land which was never theirs. Take care of these blasted shrines for me while I finish my business." he grumbles, the air shimmering as his not-so-silent partner moves off, cackling as all over the isle of Inchcleraun, 6 old churches, lying in ruins, are set aflame, the smoke visible for miles, relics of the past lost forever.

The only thing that mattered to the figure though was the fact that the feeling of rejection he flt from the isle was all but gone, nothing stopping him from reaching his goal.

As he wandered closer and closer, the rising flames began to shine light onto his dark covered form. He seemed to be no more than 30, dress in a fashion more reminiscent of the Age of heroes than the modern day, his armor and sword battered and ragged, seeming to have been witness to more battles than any could guess. He had what once was vibrant and handsome pale skin, red hair and green eyes, now twisted and gnarled with rage. His skin was a mess of scars, deep lines and flaking skin, his hair unkempt and disheveled, flying away with the wind. His eyes were cold, not seeming to move in the slightest, focused squarely in one direction, further in the island.

As his unseen partner move back alongside, the Man knew he was closer, Oh so very close, a small smile beginning to cut into his visage, the very air around the man seeming to warp from the sheer malice emanating from his form.

Eventually they reached it, a small pool of water, pleasant and calm, not unlike it was all those years ago, when the figure had first come here, for a very similar but very different reason.

The man reaches into armor, pulling out a small leather sling, still seeming in good condition unlike all of the man's other gear.

The Man looks to an entity unseen by all but himself and uttered the words, "Cuir isteach Spiorad, agus comhlánaigh do pháirt." his resolve and eagerness seeping from each letter.

And as the Air began to fill with otherworldly cackling, the man felt his body go light, his mind filling with air as everything seemed to go, fuzzy, and soon, his own laughter joined the ominous cacophony.

From his mouth came words he could not understand, but at this point, he could not even care, all that mattered is that he knew what this meant.

And just as he was promised, a gust of ashes flowed from the north, moving under the power of a dark ritual. In front of him he was amazed as the ashes began to form, the ash reassembling into a skeleton, the gray color fading as soon the cold bones began to color, flesh forming over the being. Like a reverse skinning, first the inner organs, the heart, lungs, stomach and later the **OH SO FAMILIAR EYES,** dead and lifeless as they were for now. Then came a layer of muscle and fats, eventually covered by raw pink skin, hair growing from the head, pits and under-area.

And as the final detail was finished, as the last bit of this ancient legend was restored, life returned to this person's eyes, falling to the ground gasping for air as if they had breathed in a millennium, which in this case, is very true.

Ecstatic to see her, the man, his smile still carved into his face, helped the woman up, making sure to be ease her up carefully, nothing to bruise her new skin.

As she flustered around, her mind not seeming to fully understand her return to life, the man uttered in voice somehow filled with honesty sincerity and a smoldering venomous hatred, " **Its okay, its okay. There's no reason to worry**."

Slowly but surely, the woman began to calm, her green eyes looking all around her as her reddish pink hair fluttered in the night winds.

" **Now, I have two questions to ask you. Don't worry, they are quite easy; First, who are you?** " Expectation and eagerness seeping from his tongue.

"Ahhh- I-uhm-I am…" she clutched her head for a moment, before suddenly her whole posture changed, becoming confident, self assured and undoubtedly ready to use her good looks to her advantage, "I am the Eternal Lady, Mother of Soldiers, Queen of Connacht, I am Queen Medb, and what reward can I give to a man such as you for bringing me back to mortal plain in such as restored body?" her voice slightly cutesy but undoubtedly seductive, her charisma being so strong it would overpower and dominate most men in an instant, if only because she was doing all of this completely naked.

Unfortunately for her, the man in front of her was not such a man to fall for any seduction, especially her's " **Oh no miss, there is no need to thank me for my deed, you being here is reward enough. But I must ask you my final question,... what is my name?** " making sure she got a look at his face, him knowing his form was just as he wanted it to be, it's previous wear and tear restored to his ideal state, the time when he had last been with _**HER**_!

Curious at such an odd question, she decided to indulge in both their curiosity and surly look into her "savior's face. For a few moments she pondered about, trying to place why that red hair, those cheekbones, the little scar across his nose, those eyes,... those eyes….. THOSE EYES!

"no...

no,

no,

no,

nonononononononoNONONONONONONONONONONON **NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO!"** she screamed into the night, collapsing to ground as her legs gave out in fright as tears began to fall from her eyes, finding she could not move her body, forced to be at the mercy at the ONE person she knew she could never be safe from.

" **Ah, I see you DO recognize me.** " the man states in a patronizing tone, his hand going down towards her throat, pull her up as she sputtered from the lack of air and rapidly beating heart. " **I was afraid it might have been so long that my face may have slipped your mind. I mean, you knew with, slept with, KILLED, So many people in your life, why would little old me even be an afterthought** " One of his hands from her neck dropped down, then in a nanoseconds slammed into her stomach, spittle flying from her barely open throat.

" **Now, my partner will soon be taking over this operation, but he did promise me as Much time as I needed for us to work this all out.** " He pull her closer, her eyes being less than an inch from his own, the pure malice and madness in them being so powerful she felt a stinging pain in her soul from gazing in.

" **Now, let us begin this little family reunion, Aunty.** "

The sounds of a maiden screaming in terror and pain would echo across the land for days to come, but by the time anyone had thought to investigate it, the whole of Ireland, no, the whole world, had a MUCH more serious issue to deal with.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a much less terrifying and monstrous location(for now at least) we have two teenagers do what they do best… shoot the shit while watching television.

"OH COME ON! YOU SHOULD HAVE HAD THAT FUCKIN' THING! ALL YAH HAD TO DO WAS RUN OUT THE DOOR, AND AH BE HOME FREE! But NOOOOOOOO, YEH just HAD TO go back and look, and take a Machete to the face for your trouble, stupid Mother-'grumble grumble grumble'" Rory shouted at the screen as the Hockey masked (TRADEMARKED) figure brutally desiccated his victim's body, before wandering off to kill some teenagers having sex in a camping tent.

"'Munchmunch', I told you man, if people could think intelligently in a slasher movie, none of these fuckheads would have gone to get high at a known murder hot-spot. 'Gulp, gulp, gulp' ah, I am so glad you had some soda around here, I was dying for some caffeine." Robert yelled from kitchen, quickly devouring something while gulping down another drink.

"Yeah yeah yeah, eat and drink me out of house and home you will. I know yah haven't had anything for days but seriously, what the hell is your bladder made of? That's your 6'th freaking can, don't yah have to take a piss by now?" Rory mumbled in mild disbelief, watching his guest chug soda one after another drinks, devouring a whole ham and still having enough room to start digging through the pantry.

"When you hitch a ride across the Channel after a chase with the French police, after waking up in the middle of nowhere with barely a buck to your name, then you can bitch at me for being hungry. For now, 'munch' shut up, and let's see how else these morons will get butchered." Robert slammed back, hopping the back of the couch and landing beside Rory, a bag of chips in both hands and smile on his face.

He liked Rory, for as much of an ass he could be, he was a fun kind of ass(Oi, don't go there you pervert). He was the kind of guy who would be the life of a party, getting everyone up and dancing, meeting everyone and handing out drinks, aka, the guy he normally never once talked to. But it seems that while the young man wasn't the best with words, he seems to have some sort of indomitable charisma that just made you want to be his friend, a solid E rank maybe. The guy had, after quite a bit of prodding, been able to squeeze out a (Very much edited) story of how some loudmouth American boy had somehow wound up floating in the ocean blue with not a person knowing who the hell he was.

After sweeping him up in his unfortunate tale, Rory had offered him the chance to stay the night as a proper guest before he would help me get in contact with the American Embassy. Robert didn't like lying to him, but he knew that by the time Rory would wake, he'd already have skipped town. Not like there was a home for him to go to anyway. If a version of himself was alive in the universe then he was not about to start some warp level shenanigans. If he was dead then he'd probably be locked up and torn apart by men in black. to find out how he was here. And if he never existed, then that's just a headache for everyone.

But right now, parallel universes, demons, blood sacrifice, government conspiracies, were all the furthest thing from Robert's mind, as he stared haply into the t.v., watching the (COPYRIGHT) killer waddle after another teen, who would trip over nothing as he merely inched closer and closer.

'Man is it good to have some normalcy after all that crazy. Just sitting here, on a proper worn out couch, eating some chips(or whatever these people call them) and watching a stupid B movie. God I did not realize how long its been since I've done this.

'Technically Master, It's has not even been too weeks yet since... leaving, your previous life." a very familiar and Morse voice rings out from his head, breaking the illusion that he was just a normal kid doing normal kid things in a normal world, instead of being a freak with God knows('Please do not take the Lord's name in vain sir')... who the hell knows many mythical figures crashing in his mind and soul while he desperately tries to not go insane, and find out what the Hell he's even doing here. Nothing in life is without purpose, at least when magic and inter-dimensional wizards and all other literary shenanigans begin to appear.

'It's certainly felt a whole lot longer than 2 week. Seems like it's been like, 5 months or something. Anyway, I'm guessing if you're talking to me, our new resident to 'Robert's Head de blanka', has stopped banging at the door and you've stopped soiling yourself in fright.' Robert shot back, a fair bit of annoyance at life in general slipped into his tone as he tried to sink into the couch.

'... Berserker Diable has adjusted to his madness enhancement now, though I would suggest we still give him some time to settle in.' Sanson stated as if his master wasn't treating him with far less respect than he should.

'We're calling him that are we? Hm, I guess if you're giving him a title I was right after all. I've got an entire deck of your guys rooming in my head. Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, Berserker….' Robert trialed off as he didn't want to think of the potential of having one of THOSE servants running around in his head, looking through his eyes, his memories.

'Look, I know you are trying to keep quiet for all the other servants so they can make their own entrances, but please, tell me now, do you think any of them are dangerous… to me, of course all of your servants are like magical W.M.D.'s to everyone else.' Robert asked, trying to sneak a little humor in at the end.

'... enjoy your movie master.' and with that Sanson had, metaphorically, left the line. His silence more damning than any amount of words he could have conjured.

Feeling a little betrayed by his servant giving him the cold shoulder, Robert nearly sunk further into the oh so comfy couch, feeling his eyes grow heavy as the movie came to a close."

"'Yawn', thanks for the entertainment Rory, but I got to say I don't think my eyes can take it anymore, I'm crashing."

"Hmm, well I suppose I should sleep too, my head's been killing me lately, and a I know it isn't a hangover, that been over for hours. Might have finally caught a cold, so I'll just head to my room" and as he was about to shut the door to his room, Rory shouted, "And watch out for Stingy Jack, he's a nasty sort." before slamming the door.

"... who the hell is Jack?" Robert ideally mumbled as he passed once again into the the Realm of Dreams.

* * *

In another part of the Island of Inchcleraun, now a host to all sorts of horrid screams and other monstrous sounds.

At the center of a freshly cut tree, lay a lantern, burning a haunting autumn orange even if the harsh gusts should have snuffed it out.

And then, a voice rang out across the wind, a haunting summoning of sorts.

" _ **Gather round boys and girls, it's story time!"**_

And like the pied piper, something did come. Wraiths of all shapes and sizes, of ages long pasts and of the all too recent. Some were small and frail, others withered and shaking in the wind. All though had a connection to the lantern though. They had all seen it, once, twice? How or why they do not remember, all they know is that now they come, why does not matter, they must.

Around the Lantern a twist form begins to grow and shift, stretched thin and pale, like butter over too much bread.

" **Eugh, I haven't had a crowd this dead since… uuhm…. 1641! YES! I saw you twitch, that's where you saw me huh? Oh man, that was some party, I got SSSSSSOOOOOOOO many guests then, but eugh, still wasn't enough. Honestly, I was never going to have enough. If all those greenbacks hadn't left in the famine I could have done it but oh well, what's two hundred years to a fellow like me?"** the Spirit cackled, a ghostly hand picking up the lantern as it seemed to grin, though without a head that was hard to tell.

" **Well, I suppose if any of you had a brain to go around"** pointing at the ghost of what was probably a young child, " **you'd all be wondering,**

' _ **Wasn't Halloween like, 4-5 months ago?'**_ **and well normally I would even so much as had enough juice to poop out and yell Boo on most other days beyond Hallow's Eve, now that I got that Mook's power added to mine, from now on, The Season's feelings never stop so long as I'm around"** and with that the lantern warped and shifted, losing it's metallic ting, replaced by an fleshy orange, the light changing shape as the spirit lifted it above himself, before resting it atop his stump like you would a crown, fire bursting from the holes, as the final transformation was complete.

" **Eh, ehehe, eheheHE, EHEHEHEHEHEHEH! JACK IS BACK! AND I SWEAR AIN'T NO DEVIL, NO ANGEL GONNA STOP ME TILL I GET WHAT I WANT!"** raising his arms theatrically, Jack Screamed, " _ **All those spirits who saw me Hallow's eve. All those trapped in their graves this night, RISE! RISE I SAY, FOR THE LANDS OF THE LIVING MUST BE PLUNDERED AND RANSACKED! BURNED AND RAZED! I DON'T CARE WHO YOU KILL OR WHY, JUST RAISE HELL TONIGHT, ENOUGH SO THAT EVEN THOSE DAMNED OLD FARTS, HIDING IN THEIR CRUMBLING PALACES, WILL HAVE TO TAKE US ON! IN THE NAME OF JACK!- NO… Stingy Jack, Lets PARTY!"**_ magical power erupting from his palms as all around Ireland, graves were busted open, cadavers lost to sea began to swim, and the the dead rose to meet their master's demands, their bodies puppets for the spirit that trapped them all with a single wink.

" **Ehe… oooohhh boy that took a lot out of me. Gonna need to recharge. Hmm, maybe my partner won't mind if I nibble on his prey. Hehehehehe"**

* * *

Welp, now that THAT is finally finished, let's get to the after story notes

Since this chapter used a LOT of slang, this part might be a bit long.

For those little numbers I left those were little notes:

 ***1: Slang for being very sick**

 ***2: A Long time**

 ***3: Complete Mess**

 ***4: Home**

 ***5: Tired/Exhausted**

 ***6: Drunk**

 **7: Self Righteous person**

 ***8: Odd looking**

 ***9: Very rude Person**

 ***10: Shithead**

 ***11:(this one is actually italian): F***ing Asshole**

Reviews:

 **King of Savages: He's a marked man, that he is.**

" **You're a marked man, brother, you're a marked man, hey Get right down on your knees and pray And thank the Lord I don't have my way"**

 **Empty Boundaries: Thanks for the compliment Senpai. Don't worry, I work to my own pace. That Aprils chapter just wouldn't leave me until I got down to type it all up.**

 **Merlin Pranks101: Yes, I did say that, and no, that wasn't just a stupid reference to that Skyrim Meme. And no, that Living weapon of the Gods is not a servant, I want to TRY and balance some of the servants, though some of the things later down the line…. Well, then things get REAL crazy.**

 **The Indominator: THOT Status (?#?% ?$ !*$).**

 **Anyway Glad to see I got you laughing man, and really, it's fine, not like it's your fault or anything… right? RIGHT!?**

 **Nemesis Jedi: Uggggh, we both really do know the depths of Gacha Hell don't we? :(**

 **Davycrockett100: Thank you, thank you, I'll be here…. For an indeterminate amount of time. But really, glad to see I've entertained you pal.**

 **Holix25: Glad to hear my ramblings amused you. Poor Issei… though to be honest, I'd have more pity for him if he didn't deserve it, kekekek.**

 **Remzal Von Enili: You, one of my best friends and a Shocking amount of people on /a/ and /d/.**

 **Soggy Biscuits: Yup, and thanks for favoriting and following.**

This Chapter's Story Recommendations:

 **The Sword Which Ruptures Illusions: I still don't know what Touho is, but it has Gilgamesh, it has insanity, and fun so, I dig it so far.**

 **Fate of Black and Crimson: A mixing of Regular stay night, Grand order and apocrypha, with Shirou instead of receiving the King of knights, receives the greatest, and sickest, swords'man' japan has ever seen.**

 **Wearing Grey: A Look of how the newest Avenger would react to taking Giles place in Fate/Zero**

 **Inaccurate Legends: Fuyuki is such a silly place**

 **Man off the Moon: A Nameless hero goes on a journey to the Red Planet.**

Next time, on Dragon-, Ah this jokes getting old.

Anyway, here's the preview(Its actually a continuation on the other line from last time's previews, didn't think this chapter would be so long). Enjoy

" _..."_

" _..."_

" _..."_

" _... if you keep staring into my eyes kid, Either pucker up or get your butt ready for a decent whipping."_

" _... that's sounded wrong on so many levels. Soooo many levels"_

" _Look," he tossed the boy his spear, taller than he was by at least two feet, 'If you keep hanging up on every little detail, your head's just gonna burst."_

" _Sorry if I don't often have to say, 'So Son, what did you do all day' 'oh you know, talk to myself and get smacked in the head with a big pulsing rod."_

" _Heh, there might be some hope for you yet kid." a mass of screams began to push down on their position, "Least if your survive the night of Course"_


End file.
